


THE LIBRARY 
Ba 
THE COINTY GRSELY. 
OF CALIFORNIA 
LOS ANGELES 


List OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

PorRTRAIT OF TOLSTO6Y  . : : : ‘ Frontispiece 
Etched by W. H. W. Bicknell from Photograph. 

INTERIOR OF A PEASANT’S HOME . : : : a AS: 


From Drawing by Carl Buddeus. 


PoRTRAIT OF TOLSTOY AT THE AGE OF TWENTY-THREE 459 
From Daguerreotype taken in 1851. 


Tolstoy, Vol. I. 


OHAPTER 


18 
Te. 
IIL. 
sige 


CONTENTS 


CHILDHOOD 


Karu IvANoviIcH, OuR TEACHER . . : 
MAMMA 


Papa : : : ‘ ‘ : 5 
THrE LEssons . 2 : Z 3 ° 
THE SAINTLY Foon ? ‘. , : 
PREPARATION FOR THE Hunt : b : 
THe Hunt : : 7 : 
GAMES. : A 4 - ; 


SOMETHING LIKE pee ote 

THE KIND oF A Man My FATHER We 

OccUPATIONS IN THE CABINET AND IN THE 
SITTING - ROOM 


GrRisHA . ; : é A 

NATALYA SAVISHNA é 

THE SEPARATION . . ° C ; 
CHILDHOOD ; A : é : ° 
POETRY. 4 Fi - ‘ c ‘ 
PRINCESS Houxktor : . e 

Prince IvAn IVANOVICH 3 . : 
Tue {vrns : ‘ F é A : 
Guests ARE CoMING , ; ‘ is 
BEFORE THE MAZzuURKA . : a 3 A 
THE MAzuRKA . ° e . . f 


Vv 


vi 


CHAPTER 


XXIII. 
XXIV. 
XXV. 
XXVI. 
XXVII. 
XXVIII. 


CONTENTS 


AFTER THE MAZURKA . ; 
In BED. : a 5 ° 
THE LETTER 


Wuat AwAITED US IN THE Conny. Z 


GRIEF : : 
THE LAst Ban Menai é 


BOYHOOD 
At Easy STAGES . i e 
THE STORM ‘ é ° ° 
A New VIEW . é 2 ‘ 
At Moscow Z : 5 F 
My ELtper BrotTHER ; : 
MAsHA ; A - c 6 
SHOT. 
THe History or Ragh ivanotwa 
CONTINUATION . ‘ : Q 
CONTINUATION . 5 . ; 
ONE . : 3 F Z ; 
THe SmMatt Key  . A ; 
THE TRAITRESS 
THE EcuLipseE . 3 * : 
DREAMS 


AFTER GRINDING Gone rioGe 
HATRED : 4 

Tue Marps’ CHAMBER 
BoyHoop . “ P “ . 
VorlopyYa . x 5 5 : 
KATENKA AND LYCBOCHKA 
PAPA . : 
GRANDMOTHER . F : 2 
I ‘ : . : P ° 
Vo.ioépya’s FRIENDS. 
REFLECTIONS 


THE BEGINNING OF THE Parribhaie 


PAGE 


102 
107 
110 
117 
121 
127 


141 
149 
155 
160 
162 
166 
169 
173 
177 
182 
185 
191 
194 
197 
200 
205 
210 
213 
219 
223 
227 
230 
234 
237 
239 
242 
247 


OHAPTBR 


XXII. 
XXIII. 


XXIV. 


».D. Gs 
XXVI. 


XXVIII. 
AXVIILI. 
XXIX. 
XXX. 
XXXI. 


CONTENTS 


YOUTH 


Wuat I REGARD AS THE BEGINNING OF MY 
YourTrn. 


SPRING. ; A . A . . 
DREAMS . : : é 4 A 

Our Famity CIRCLE 5 ° ° ° 
THe RuLEs.. Z é ° > 

THE CONFESSION . : : ; : 


DrivE TO THE MONASTERY 

My Seconp CONFESSION : 

How I PreparED FOR THE Ticdauwinions : 

My History EXAMINATION 

My Matuematics EXAMINATION . 

THE LATIN EXAMINATION 

I Am A Grown -vupep MAN : F 

Wuat Dvuskov’s AND ere OccuPaA- 
TIONS WERE F F 7 j ; 

I Am CONGRATULATED . ; : A : 

THE QUARREL. : ‘ 

I Am GetTinc Reapy To MAKE ees 


THE VALAKHINS 
Tur KorNAKOVS . : F ‘ . 
Tue Ivins ; 2 e F 


PRINCE IvAN eres 

A CONFIDENTIAL TALK WITH My Pease 
Tue NEKHLYUDOVS. 

Love ‘ E 

I Am Bacon ACQUAINTED 

I SHow Mysretr From My Most eae 


TAGEOUS SIDE 
DMITRI ~: ? ‘ 3 A 3 
IN-TRHE COUNTRY: <5 : : ‘ 
Our RELATIONS WITH THE ania r : 
My OccupaTIONs . . : : ; - 


CommE Iu Favut . ‘ * é is ‘ 


vii 


PAGE 


253 
255 
259 
263 
268 
271 
273 
277 
280 
283 
289 
293 
297 


303 
308 
312 
318 
322 
328 
332 
336 
339 
345 
351 
357 


362 
367 
373 
378 
383 
388 


Viil 
CHAPTER 
XXXIE 

XXXII. 
RXV) 
SERS: 

>, ©, 9.4 & 
XXXVIL. 
XXXVUL 
>, O24 B.S 
Sale 

XE 
XLII. 
XLII. 
OE LVeE 
XLV. 


THE IncuRSION: STORY OF A VOLUNTEER 


YourTH . 


CONTENTS 


NEIGHBOURS. 
FATHER’S MARRIAGE 


How WE RECEIVED THE Niwa - 


THE UNIVERSITY . 


AFFAIRS OF THE HEART 


SocIETY 


A CAROUSAL 


My FRIENDSHIP WITH THE Nevatecuors 
My FRIENDSHIP WITH NEKHLYUDOV . 


OurR STEPMOTHER 
New Companions 
ZCKHIN AND SEMENOV 


I FLUNKED 


GHILDHOOGD 
A Novel 
1852 


Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2007 with funding from 
Microsoft Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/completetolstoy01tolsiala 


CHILDHOOD 


E 
KARL IVANOVICH, OUR TEACHER 


On the 12th of August, 18-, exactly two days after 
my birthday, when I was ten years old and received such 
wonderful presents, Karl Ivanovich woke me at seven 
o'clock in the morning by striking right over my head at 
a fly with a flap which was made of wrapping-paper 
attached to a stick. He did that so awkwardly that he 
set in motion the small picture of my guardian angel 
which was hanging on the oak headpiece of my bed, and 
made the dead fly fall straight upon my head. I stuck 
my nose out of my coverlet, stopped the swinging picture 
with my hand, threw the killed fly upon the ground, and 
with angry, though sleepy, eyes measured Karl Ivanovich. 
But he, dressed in a many-coloured wadded dressing-gown, 
which was girded by a belt of the same material, in a red 
hand-knit skull-cap with a tassel, and in soft goatskin 
boots, continued to make the round of the walls, and to 
aim and flap at flies. 

“Tll admit I am a little fellow,” thought I, « but why 
does he worry me? Why does he not kill flies over 
Volédya’s bed? There are lots of them there! No, 
Volédya is older than I, and I am the youngest of all; 

1 


vi CHILDHOOD 


that’s why he is tormenting me. All he is thinking 
about,” whispered I, “is how to cause me annoyance. 
He knows quite well that he has waked and frightened 
me, but he acts as though he did not notice it. Heisa 
contemptible fellow! And his dressing-gown, and cap, 
and tassel, — they are all contemptible !” 

While I thus expressed in thought my disgust with 
Karl Ivanovich, he walked up to his bed, took a look at 
the watch which was hanging above it in a hand-made 
shoe of glass beads, hung the flap on a nail, and, evidently 
in the pleasantest mood, turned to us. 

“Auf, Kinder, auf! ’s ist Zeit. Die Mutter ist schon 
im Saal,’ he cried out in his good German voice, then 
came up to me, seated himself at my feet, and took his 
snuff-box out of his pocket. I pretended {I was asleep. 
Karl Ivanovich at first took a snuff, wiped his nose, 
snapped his fingers, and then turned his attention to me. 
He smiled and began to tickle the soles of my feet. 
« Nun, nun, Faulenzer !” said he. 

Though I was very much afraid of tickling, I did not 
jump up from bed and did not answer him, but only hid 
my head farther under the pillows, kicked my feet with 
all my might, and made all possible efforts to keep from 
laughing. 

“What a good man he is, and how he loves us, and 
how could I have thought so ill of him?” 

I was angry at myself and at Karl Ivdnovich, and I 
wanted to laugh and cry at the same time; my nerves 
were shattered. 

“ Ach, lassen Sie, Kar] Ivanovich!” cried I, with tears 
in my eyes, and stuck my head out of my pillows. 

Karl Ivanovich was surprised, left my soles in peace, 
and with a disturbed mien began to ask what the matter 
was with me, and whether I had not had a bad dream. 
His good German face and the interest which he evinced 
in trying to ascertain the cause of my tears made them 


KARL IVANOVICH, OUR TEACHER 3 


flow more copiously; I felt ashamed, and I could not 
understand how a minute ago I could have disliked Karl 
Ivanovich, and how I could have found his gown, his cap, 
and his tassel contemptible. Now, on the contrary, all 
those things appeared particularly charming to me, and 
even the tassel seemed to be an evident proof of his 
goodness. 

I told him that I was crying because I had had a 
bad dream, that I dreamt mamma had died and was 
being buried. I had made up all that myself, because 
I really did not remember what it was I had dreamt 
about that night; but when Karl Ivanovich, touched by 
my story, began to console me, it seemed to me that I 
had actually had such a terrible dream, and my tears 
began to flow, this time from an entirely different cause. 

When Karl Ivanovich left me, and I raised myself in 
bed and began to pull my stockings on my tiny legs, my 
tears flowed less abundantly, but the gloomy thoughts of 
my fictitious dream did not leave me. The children’s 
valet, Nikolay, entered the room. He was a small, neat 
man, always serious, accurate, respectful, and a great friend 
of Karl Iv4novich. He was carrying our garments and 
shoes: for Voléddya a pair of boots, and for me still the 
unbearable shoes with ribbons. I felt ashamed to cry in 
his presence. Besides, the morning sun shone merrily 
through the windows, and Volddya, who was mocking 
Marya Ivdnovna, my sister’s governess, was laughing so 
merrily and loudly, as he stood at the wash-basin, that 
even solemn Nikolay, with a towel over his shoulder, and 
with soap in one of his hands and the water-tank in the 
other, smiled and said: 

“That will do, Vladimir Petrévich! Be pleased to 
wash yourself!” 

I cheered up completely. 

“Sind Ste bald fertig?” was heard the voice of Karl 
Ivdénovich from the study-room. 


4 CHILDHOOD 


His voice was stern, and no longer had that expression 
of kindness which had touched me to tears. In the class- 
room Karl Ivdnovich was a different man: he was an 
instructor. I dressed in a hurry, washed myself, and, 
with the hair-brush in my hand, trying to smooth down 
my wet hair, made my appearance in response to his 
call. 

Karl Ivanovich had his spectacles on his nose and a 
book in his hands, and was seated in his usual place, 
between the door and the window. At the left of the 
door were two small shelves: one was ours, the children’s, 
the other was his, Karl Ivdnovich’s. On our shelf were 
all kinds of books, school-books and others: some of 
these were placed upright, others lay flat. Only two 
large volumes of the “ Histoire des Voyages,” in red bind- 
ings, were properly placed against the wall. Then fol- 
lowed long, fat, large, and small books, — bindings without 
books, and books without bindings. We used to stick 
and jam into it all kinds of things, when, just before 
recess, we were ordered to fix up the “library,” as Karl 
Ivdnovich loudly called that shelf. 

The collection of books on Ais shelf was not so large as 
ours, but it was much more varied. I remember three of 
them: a German pamphlet about the manuring of gar- 
dens for cabbage, — without a binding: one volume of a 
history of the Seven Years’ War,— in parchment which 
was burned at one end; and a complete course of hydro- 
statics. Karl Ivdnovich used to pass the greater part of 
his time reading, and he had even impaired his eyesight in 
that way; but he never read anything else but these 
books and the Northern Bee. 

Among the objects which lay on Karl Ivdnovich’s shelf, 
there was one which more than any other reminds me 
of him. It was a circle of cardboard, stuck in a wooden 
support, in which it moved, by means of pegs. Upon 

1A periodical. 


KARL IVANOVICH, OUR TEACHER 5 


that circle was pasted a picture which represented a car- 
icature of a lady and a hair-dresser. Karl Ivdnovich was 
a good hand at pasting, and he had himself invented and 
made that circle in order to shield his weak eyes against 
the bright light. 

Vividly I see before me the lank figure in the cotton 
dressing-gown and red cap, underneath which peep out 
scanty gray hairs. He is seated at the little table, upon 
which is placed the circle with the hair-dresser, that 
throws a shadow upon his face. In one hand he holds a 
book ; his other is resting on the arm of the chair. Near 
him lies the watch with a chasseur painted on its 
face, a checkered handkerchief, a round black snuff-box, 
a green case for his glasses, and snuffers on a holder. 
All these things are lying so regularly and properly in 
their places, that by the order itself it is possible to 
conclude that Karl Ivdnovich’s conscience is pure and his 
soul at rest. 

When we had run ourselves tired in the hall down-stairs, 
we used to steal up-stairs on tiptoes, into the study, and 
there we would see Karl Ivanovich sitting all alone in 
his armchair and with a calmly sublime expression read- 
ing one of his favourite books. There were moments 
when I caught him not reading: his spectacles were dropped 
lower on his large aquiline nose, his blue, half-closed eyes 
looked with a certain peculiar expression, and his lips 
smiled sadly. It was quiet in the room; one could hear 
only the even breathing and the ticking of the watch with 
the chasseur. 

At times he did not notice me, while I stood at the 
door and thought: “ Poor, poor old man! There are many 
of us: we are playing, we are happy; but he is all alone, 
and nobody comforts him. He is telling the truth when 
he says that he is an orphan. The history of his life is 
terrible, indeed! I remember his telling it to Nikolay. 
It is terrible to be in his place!” And I would feel so 


6 CHILDHOOD 


sorry for him, that I would go up to him, take his hand, 
and say: “ Zieber Karl Ivénovich!” He liked my speak- 
ing thus to him: he would pat me, and it was evident 
that he was touched. 

Upon the other wall hung maps, nearly all of them 
torn, but skilfully pasted up by the hand of Karl Ivano- 
vich. On the third wall, in the middle of which was a 
door that led down-stairs, were hanging, on one side, two 
Tulers: one, all cut up, belonged to us, the other, which 
was new, was Ais, and was used more for encouragement 
than for ruling; on the other side was a blackboard, on 
which our great transgressions were marked with circles, 
and our small ones with crosses. At the left of the board 
was the corner where we were made to kneel. 

How well I remember that corner! I remember the 
valve in the stove, the ventilator in that valve, and the 
noise which it made whenever it was turned. When I 
had stood in the corner quite awhile, until my knees and 
back were aching, I thought: “Karl Ivanovich has for- 
gotten about me. He, no doubt, feels rested, sitting in a 
soft chair, and reading his Hydrostatics, but how about 
me?” And to make him think of me, I would softly 
open and close the valve, or scratch off some stucco from 
the wall; but if suddenly an unusually large piece fell 
upon the ground,—then, indeed, the fright it gave me 
was worse than any punishment. I looked at Karl 
Ivd4novich, — but he sat there with his book in his hand, 
as if he had not heard anything. 

In the middle of the room stood a table which was 
covered with a torn black oilcloth, underneath which 
peeped out the edges that had been all cut up with pen- 
knives. Around the table were a few unpainted tabourets, 
which had assumed a gloss from long usage. The last 
wall was occupied by three windows. From these the 
following view was had: right below the windows was 
the road, every puddle, every pebble, and every rut of 











ByEn2z6Y ts gmMoH yitmuoD e'yotz2loT 


lod 


BBY 
BELOW A by ROA Ve ae rmegaya ky 


atin 


stiver wall hung maps, nearly ali ~ so 
cara. bt eeabtotly peated up by the hand of Karl iver 
week t% the thod well, in the swutiile of which wes = 
dem Dat bi down-atairs, were hanging, on one side, (4 


wns vew, was Ats, aad was ust sete fer ment 
thay for ruling; on the other sid wens oi on 
winch our great trausgressions ete cated with circles, 
and our small ones with crosses. At cee ieft of the board 
was the corner where we were made to eee 

Hoe well f remecuber that corner ' 1 rommeuber the 
valv« i Hee wove. the ventilator in that valve, amd the 
ucis winch & mado whenever it was turned. Wher I 
hadi soni uz the corwer quite awhile, until my knees amet 
hack wert aching. | thougtt: ” Karl ivdacvich has tar 
gotten rbout ras He, i doult teele rated, eftting in 6 
edt cheer, and reading bis Reytemtatrs to * ow gles 
mot” And vw wake bam this of me [| woah sodig 
oper aud close the valve, ur segeted 2 sco wanre teeeD 
the wall, wet Hf mudidenly at © meals eran poet eld 
upon the grown, —— then, indeed, the trigit a goer @t 
was wore than sy punishment | dake at Kael 
[vanoviek, —- lat he sat there with his book in bia band, 
as it be hed sot beard anything. 

In the wile of the mam atood 8 table which was 
overed woh 2 torn bkack vilcloth, underneath which 
pecped out the eriges tank had heen all cut ap with pen 
roves. Araund the ieble were a few unpainted tabourets, 
wie. had assumed a glass from long usage. The last 
wali was occupied by three windows. From these the 
faliowing view was had: right below the windows was 
the real «very paddle, every pebble, and every rut ot 





Tolstoy’s Country Home at Ya 
sna 
Polyana us 


Photogravure from a Photograph 





ul 

















es 


‘7 





KARL IVANOVICH, OUR TEACHER i 


which had long been familiar and dear to me; beyond the 
road lay an avenue of lopped linden-trees, and beyond 
that a wicker-fence could be seen in places; on the other 
side of the avenue appeared a meadow, on one side of which 
was a threshing-barn, and opposite it a forest; the hut of 
the watchman was visible far in the distance. 

Through the window on the right was seen a part of 
the terrace where the grown people used to sit before 
dinner. At times, while Karl Ivdnovich was correcting 
the dictation sheet, I looked in that direction, and I saw 
my mother’s black head and somebody’s back, and I dimly 
heard some conversation and laughter. I felt angry because 
I could not be there, and I thought: “ When I shall be 
grown, shall I stop studying and eternally reading the 
Dialogues ? And shall I not be sitting with those I love ?” 
Anger passed into sadness, and I fell to musing, God 
knows why or over what, so that I did not hear Karl 
Ivdnovich’s angry words over my mistakes. 

Karl Ivanovich took off his dressing-gown, put on his 
blue uniform with elevations and gatherings at the 
shoulders, fixed his cravat before the mirror, and took us 
down-stairs, to bid mother good morning. 


sas 
MAMMA 


MOTHER was sitting in the drawing-room and pour- 
ing out tea. With one hand she held the teapot, with 
the other the faucet of the samovdr, from which the water 
ran over the teapot to the tray. Though she was look- 
ing fixedly at it, she did not notice it, nor that we had 
entered. 

So many memories of the past rise before one, trying 
to resurrect in imagination the features of a beloved being, 
that one sees them dimly through these recollections as 
through tears. When I try to recall my mother as she 
was at that time, I can think only of her brown eyes, 
which always expressed the same kindness and love, of 
a birthmark upon her neck, a little below the place where 
the small hairs curled, of her white linen collar, of her 
tender dry hand which had so often fondled me, and 
which I had so often kissed; her general expression 
escapes me. 

To the left of the sofa stood an old English grand 
piano. At the piano was seated my swarthy sister Lyu- 
bochka, who with her rosy fingers that had just been 
washed in cold water was playing with evident expression 
Clementi’s Etudes. She was eleven years old. She wore 
a short gingham dress and white, lace-bordered pantalets, 
and she could encompass octaves only by arpeggio. Near 
her, and half turned around, sat Marya Ivdnovna, in a 


cap with rose-coloured ribbons, and wearing a blue jersey. 
8 


MAMMA “ 9 


Her angry red face assumed a sterner expression the 
moment Karl Ivdnovich entered. She looked angrily at 
him and, without answering his greeting, continued to 
stamp her foot and to count: wn, deux, trois, un, deux, 
trois, louder and more commandingly than before. 

Karl Ivdnovich paid no attention whatsoever to it, and, 
as was his custom, with German politeness went straight 
up to take my mother’s hand. She awoke from her 
reverie, shook her head, as if wishing to dispel her gloomy 
thoughts with that motion, gave her hand to Karl Ivano- 
vich, and kissed his furrowed temple, while he was kissing 
her hand. 

“Ich danke, leber Karl Ivanovich!” and continuing 
to speak German, she asked him whether the children 
had slept well. 

Karl Ivdénovich was deaf in one ear, and just then he 
could hear nothing because of the noise at the piano. He 
bent lower down to the sofa, leaned with one arm against 
the table, while standing on one foot, and with a smile, 
which then appeared to me the acme of refinement, lifted 
his cap on his head and said: 

« Excuse me, Natalya Nikoldevna!” 

Not to catch a cold, Karl Ivanovich never took off his 
red cap, but every time he entered the sitting-room, he 
asked permission to keep it on. 

«Put it on, Karl Ivanovich. I am asking you whether 
the children have slept well,” said mamma, quite aloud, 
as she moved up to him. 

But he again had not heard anything. He covered his 
bald head with his red cap, and smiled even more sweetly. 

“Stop a minute, Mimi,” said mamma to Marya Iva- 
novna, smiling. “One can’t hear a thing.” 

Whenever mother smiled, her face, which was very 
pretty, became even more beautiful, and everything 
around her seemed to grow happier. If, in the heavy 
moments of my life, I had been able to see that smile, 


10 . CHILDHOOD 


even in passing, I should not have known what grief is, 
It seems to me that in the smile alone is contained that 
which is called the beauty of the face: if the smile adds 
charm to the face, the face is beautiful; if it does not 
change it, it is common; if it spoils it, it is homely. 

Having greeted me, mamma took my head with both 
her hands, and threw it back, then looked fixedly at me, 
and said: 

« You have been crying to-day ?” 

I did not answer. She kissed my eyes, and asked in 
German: 

« What were you crying about ?” 

Whenever she spoke to us in a friendly manner, she 
spoke in that language, which she had mastered perfectly. 

“T had been crying in my dream, mamma,” said I, as I 
recalled the fictitious dream with all its details and 
involuntarily shuddered at the thought. 

Karl Ivanovich confirmed my words, but kept silent 
about the dream. Having said something about the 
weather, in which conversation Mimi, too, took part, 
mamma placed six pieces of sugar on the tray for some 
especially honoured servants, then arose and walked up to 
the embroidery-frame which stood near the window. 

“Well, go now to papa, children, and tell him to be 
sure and come to see me before he goes to the threshing- 
floor.” 

The music, the counting, and the stern glances began 
anew, and we went to papa. After passing the room 
which from grandfather’s time had preserved the name of 
officiating-room, we entered his study. 


III. 
PAPA 


HE was standing near the writing-table and, pointing 
to some envelopes, papers, and heaps of money, was 
speaking excitedly about something to steward Yakov 
Mikhdylovich, who was standing in his customary place, 
between the door and the barometer, with his hands 
behind his back, rapidly moving his fingers in all direc- 
tions. 

The more excitedly father spoke, the more rapidly his 
fingers twitched, and, again, when father stopped speak- 
ing, his fingers ceased moving; but when Yakov himself 
began to speak his fingers came into the greatest commo- 
tion and desperately jumped on all sides. It seems to 
me one could have guessed Ydkov’s secret thoughts by 
their motion. But his face was quiet, and expressed the 
consciousness of his dignity and at the same time of his 
subserviency, as much as to say: “I am right; however, 
as you may wish it!” 

When papa saw us, he only said: 

“Wait a moment.” 

With a motion of his head he pointed to the door, 
which he wanted some one of us to close. 

“Oh, merciful Lord! What is the matter with you 
to-day, Yakov?” continued he to the steward, twitching 
his shoulders, which was a habit of his. “This envelope 
with the enclosed eight hundred roubles —” 

Yakov moved up the abacus, cast 800 upon it, and 

aul 


1? CHILDHOOD 


fixed his eyes upon an indefinite point, waiting for things 
to follow. 

“are for farm expenses during my absence. You 
understand? For the mill you are to get one thousand 
roubles —is it not so? You will get back deposits from 
the treasury, eight thousand roubles; for the hay, of 
which, according to your own calculation, we ought to 
sell seven thousand puds,—let me say at forty-five 
kopeks, — you will receive three thousand roubles; con- 
sequently, how much money will you have in all? 
Twelve thousand, —am I not right?” 

“ Just so, sir,” said Yakov. 

But I noticed by the rapidity with which his fingers 
moved that he was about to retort something. Papa 
interrupted him. 

“Well, from these moneys you will send ten thousand 
to the Council for the Petrévskoe estate. Now, the money 
which is in the office,” continued papa (Yakov had dis- 
turbed the former 12,000, and now cast 21,000 on his 
abacus), “you will bring to me, and you will write it 
down among the expenses of this date.” (Yakov mixed 
up the accounts and turned over the abacus, no doubt 
wishing to say by this that the 21,000 would be equally 
lost.) “But this envelope with the enclosed money you 
will deliver in my name according to the address.” 

I was standing near the table and looked at the inscrip- 
tion. It ran: “To Karl Iva4nych Mauer.” 

Evidently noticing that I had read what I ought not to 
know, papa placed his hand upon my shoulder, and with 
a slight motion indicated a direction away from the table. 
I did not understand whether that was a favour or a 
reprimand, but in any case kissed his large venous hand 
which lay upon my shoulder. 

« At your service, sir,” said Yakov. “And what is your 
order in regard to the Khabérovka money ?” 

Khabdérovka was mother’s estate. 


PAPA a 


“Leave it in the office, and never use it without my 
order.” 

Yakov was silent for a few moments; then suddenly 
his fingers began to move with increased rapidity, and, 
changing the expression of submissive stupidity with 
which he listened to his master’s commands, into one of 
shrewd cunning, which was peculiar to him, he moved 
the abacus up to him, and began to speak. 

“Permit me to report to you, Peter Aleksandrovich, that 
your will shall be done, but it is impossible to pay into 
the Council at the proper time. You have deigned to 
say,” continued he, speaking more slowly, “ that money is 
due from the deposits, the mill, and the hay.” (As he 
mentioned these items, he cast them on the abacus.) 
«But I am afraid we may have made a mistake in our 
calculations,” he added, after a short silence, and looking 
thoughtfully at papa. 

VV Ye 

“Permit me to show you: as to the mill, the miller 
has come to see me twice to ask for a delay ; he swore by 
Christ that he had no money, and he is here even now; 
perhaps you would be pleased to speak to him yourself ?” 

“What does he say?” asked papa, making a sign 
with his head that he did not wish to speak with the 
miller. 

“The same old thing! He says that there has been 
no grinding at all, that all the money he had he put into 
adam. What advantage would there be for us, sir, to 
push him for it? As to the deposits, which you mentioned, 
it seems to me J already have reported that our money 
is stuck fast there, and that it will not be so easy to get 
it soon. I only lately sent to town a wagon of flour to 
Ivan Afandsich, and with it a note in regard to this 
matter: he answered that it would give him pleasure to 
do something for Peter Alekséndrych, but that the affair 
was not in his hands, and that, according to appearances, 


14 CHILDHOOD 


the receipt would not be delivered for two months yet. 
In regard to the hay you have deigned to remark, suppose 
even we shall get three thousand roubles — ” 

He cast 3,000 on the abacus and kept silent for about 
a minute, looking now at the abacus, now into father’s 
eyes, as much as to say: 

«You see yourself how little that is! And the hay, 
again, will have to be sold first; if we were to sell it 
now, you can see for yourself —” 

He evidently had still a great supply of proofs; it was, 
no doubt, for this reason that papa interrupted him. 

“T sha’n’t change my order,” said he; “but if there 
will really be a delay in the receipt of the money, then 
we can’t help ourselves, and you will take as much money 
of the Khabdrovka estate as will be necessary.” 

“ Your servant, sir!” 

By Ydakov’s expression of face and by his fingers one 
could tell that this latter order afforded him a great 
pleasure. 

Yakov was a serf, but a very zealous and devoted man. 
Like all good stewards, he was extremely close-fisted for 
his master, and had the strangest conceptions about his 
master’s advantages. He eternally schemed for the 
increase of his master’s property at the expense of that 
of his mistress, and tried to prove that it was necessary 
to use all the income from her estates for the Petrévskoe 
village, where we were living. He was triumphant at 
this moment, because he had been completely successful. 

Having bid us good morning, papa told us that we had 
been long enough frittering our time away in the village, 
that we were no longer babies, and that it was time for 
us to begin studying in earnest. 

“TJ think you know already that I am this very evening 
going to Moscow, and that I shall take you with me,” 
said he. “You will be living with grandmother, and 
mamma will stay here with the girls. And remember 


PAPA 15 


this: her only consolation will be to hear that you are 
studying well and that people are satisfied with you.” 

Although from the preparations which had been going 
on for several days we expected something unusual, yet 
this news gave usa terrible shock. Voldédya blushed and 
with a trembling voice gave him mother’s message. 

«So this is what my dream foreboded!” thought I. 
“God grant only that nothing worse may happen.” 

I was very sorry for mother; at the same time the 
thought that we were now grown gave me pleasure. 

“Tf we are to travel to-day, there will be no classes: 
that is glorious!” thought I. “ However, I am sorry for 
Karl Ivanovich. He will, no doubt, be dismissed, or else 
they would not have fixed an envelope for him. It would 
be better, after all, to study all our lives and not to go 
away, not to leave mother, and not to offend poor Karl 
Ivénovich. He is unfortunate enough without it!” 

These thoughts flashed through my head: I did not 
budge from the spot, and fixed my eyes on the black 
ribbons of my shoes. 

My father said a few words to Karl Ivanovich about 
the falling of the barometer, and ordered Yakov not to 
feed the dogs, so that before his leave-taking he might 
go out in the afternoon and listen to the baying of the 
young hounds. Contrary to my expectation he sent us 
back to study, consoling us, however, with a promise to 
take us out on the hunt. 

On my way up-stairs I ran out on the terrace. At the 
door lay father’s favourite greyhound, Milka, blinking her 
eyes in the sun. 

“Dear Milka,” said I, patting her and kissing her 
mouth, “ we are going away to-day. Good-bye! We shall 
never see each other again.” 

I was agitated, and I began to weep. 


IV. 
THE LESSONS 


Karu IvANovicu was not at allin humour. That was 
evident from his knit brow, from the manner with which 
he threw his coat into the drawer, from his girding him- 
self angrily, and from his making a deep mark with his 
thumb in the book of Dialogues, in order to indicate the 
place to which we were to memorize. 

Voldédya studied pretty well, but I was so disconcerted 
that I could do absolutely nothing. I looked for a long 
time senselessly into the book of Dialogues, but I could 
not read through the tears which had gathered in my 
eyes at the thought of the impending departure. But 
when the time came to recite the Dialogues to Karl Ivano- 
vich, who listened to me with half-closed eyes (that was 
a bad sign),— particularly when I reached the place 
where one says, “Wo kommen Sie her?” and the other 
answers: “ Ich komme vom Kaffeehause,’ I could no longer 
restrain my tears, and through my sobs could not pro- 
nounce: “ Haben Ste die Zeitung nicht gelesen ?” When we 
reached penmanship, my tears that fell on the paper made 
blotches as if I were writing on wrapping-paper. 

Karl Ivdnovich grew angry, put me on my knees, 
insisted that it was nothing but stubbornness and a puppet- 
show (that was his favourite expression), threatened me 
with the ruler, and demanded that I should ask forgive- 
ness, though I could not pronounce a word through my 


tears. In the end, he evidently felt that he was unjust 
16 


THE LESSONS sof 


and went away into Nikoldy’s room, slamming the door 
after him. 

In the class-room we could hear the conversation in 
the valet’s room. 

“ Have you heard, Nikolay, that the children are going 
to Moscow?” said Karl Ivdnovich, as he entered the 
room. 

“ Indeed, I have.” 

Nikolay, it seems, was on the point of rising, because 
Karl Ivanovich said: “Keep your seat, Nikolay!” and 
immediately after closed the door. I left my corner 
and went to the door to listen. 

“No matter how much good you may do to people, no 
matter how attached you may be, you evidently cannot 
expect any gratitude, Nikoldy?” said Karl Ivdénovich, 
with feeling. 

Nikolay, who was sitting at the window, cobbling away 
at a boot, nodded his head in affirmation. 

“T have been living in this house these fifteen years, 
and I can say before God, Nikolay,” continued Karl 
Ivanovich, raising his eyes and his snuff-box toward the 
ceiling, “that I have loved them and have worked with 
them more than if they were my own children. You 
remember, Nikol4y, when Voldédenka had the fever, how 
I sat for nine days by his bed, without closing my eyes. 
Yes! when I was good, dear Karl Ivanovich, I was needed, 
but now,” added he, smiling ironically, “now the children 
have grown, and they must study in earnest. As if they 
were not studying here, Nikolay!” 

“T should say they were, it seems!” said Nikolay, 
putting down the awl, and pulling through the waxed 
thread with both his hands. 

“Yes, I am superfluous now, so I am sent away; but 
where are the promises? where is the gratitude? I 
respect and love Natalya Nikoldevna, Nikolay,” said he, 
putting his hand on his breast, “but what is she? Her 


18 CHILDHOOD 


will has as much power in this house as this!” saying 
which, he with an expressive mien threw upon the floor 
a chip of leather. “I know whose tricks they are, and 
why I am superfluous now; it is because I do not flatter 
and approve everything, as other people do. Iam in the 
_ habit of speaking the truth at all times and to everybody,” 
said he, proudly. “God be with them! They will not 
grow rich by not having me here, and I, God is merciful, 
will find a piece of bread somewhere. Am I right, 
Nikolay ?” 

Nikolay raised his head and looked at Karl Ivanovich, 
as if he wanted to assure himself that he would really be 
able to find a piece of bread, but he did not say anything. 

Karl Ivdénovich spoke much and long in that strain; 
he told of how his services had been much better appreciated 
at some general’s, where he used to live (that pained me 
very much), he told of Saxony, of his parents, of his 
friend, tailor Schénheit, and so forth. 

I sympathized with his sorrow, and I felt pained be- 
cause my father and Karl Ivdnovich, whom I respected 
about equally, did not understand each other; I again 
betook myself to my corner, sat down on my heels, and 
began to consider how to restore the right understanding 
between them. 

When Karl Ivdnovich returned to the class-room, he 
ordered me to get up, and to prepare the copy-book for 
dictation. When everything was ready, he majestically 
fell back into his chair, and in a voice which seemed to 
issue from some depth began to dictate as follows: “‘ Von 
al-len Let-den-schaf-ten die grau-sam-ste ist’ — haben Sie 
geschrieben ?” Here he stopped, slowly snuffed some 
tobacco, and continued with renewed strength: “‘ Die 
grausamste ist, die Un-dank-bar-keit’ — ein grosses U.” 
Having finished the last word, and in expectation of 
something to follow, I looked at him. 

“ Punctum,” said he, with a barely perceptible smile, 


‘ 


THE LESSONS 19 


and made a sign that we should hand him our copy- 
books. 

He read that motto several times, with various intona- 
tions and with an expression of the greatest satisfaction. 
The motto expressed his innermost thought. Then he 
gave us a lesson from history, and seated himself at the 
window. His face was not as stern as before; it expressed 
the satisfaction of a man who had in a fitting manner 
avenged the insult which had been offered him. 

It was fifteen minutes to one, but Karl Ivanovich did 
not even think of dismissing us; he continued giving us 
new lessons. Ennui and appetite grew in the same pro- 
portion. With the greatest impatience I followed all the 
tokens which indicated the nearness of the dinner. There 
was the peasant woman going with a mop to wash the 
dishes; there the rattle of the plates was heard in the 
butler’s room; the table was drawn out and chairs were 
placed ; and there Mimi was coming from the garden with 
Lytibochka and Kaétenka (Kdtenka was the twelve-year- 
old daughter of Mimi), but Féka was not yet to be seen, 
servant Féka, who always came and announced that din- 
ner was served. Only then would we be allowed to throw 
aside our books and run down, without paying any heed 
to Karl Ivanovich. 

Steps were heard on the staircase, but that was not 
Féka. I had studied his walk, and always could recog- 
nize the creak of his boots. The door opened, and an 
entirely unfamiliar figure made its appearance. 


We 
THE SAINTLY FOOL 


Into the room entered a man of about fifty years of 
age, with a pale, pock-marked, oval face, long gray hair, 
and a scanty reddish beard. He was so tall that, in order 
to enter, he had to bend not only his head, but his whole 
body. He was dressed in something torn that resembled 
a caftan and a cassock; in his hand he held a huge staff. 
As he entered the room, he with all his might struck the 
floor with it, and, furrowing his brow and opening his 
mouth beyond measure, laughed out in a most terrible and 
unnatural manner. One of his eyes was maimed, and the 
white pupil of that eye kept on leaping about and giving 
to his otherwise ugly face a more disgusting expression. 

« Aha, caught!” he cried out, running up to Volddya 
with mincing steps, getting hold of his head, and begin- 
ning carefully to examine his crown. Then he walked 
away from him with an entirely solemn expression on his 
face, stepped to the table, and began to blow under the 
oilcloth and to make the sign of the cross over it. 

“Oh, a pity! Oh, painful! Dear ones— will fly 
away,” said he then, in a voice quivering with tears, feel- 
ingly looking at Volédya, and beginning with his sleeves 
to wipe off the tears which had really started to fall. 

His voice was rough and hoarse, his motions hasty and 
uneven, his speech senseless and incoherent (he never 
used any pronouns), but the accents were so touching, and 


his yellow, maimed face at times assumed such an expres- 
20 


THE SAINTLY FOOL ral 


sion of sincere sorrow, that, hearing him, it was not pos- 
sible to abstain from a certain mingled feeling of pity, fear, 
and sadness. 

That was the saintly fool and pilgrim, Grisha. 

Whence did he come? Who were his parents? What 
had incited him to choose the pilgrim’s life which he was 
leading? Nobody knew that. I only know that he had 
been known as a saintly fool ever since his fifteenth year, 
that he walked barefoot in summer and winter, that he 
visited monasteries, presented images to those he took a 
fancy to, and spoke mysterious words which some regarded 
as prophecies, that no one had ever known him otherwise, 
that he at times called on grandmother, and that some 
said that he was the unfortunate son of rich parents, but 
a pure soul, while others maintained that he was simply 
a peasant and a lazy man. 

At last long-wished-for and punctual Féka appeared, 
and we went down-stairs. Grisha, sobbing and continuing 
to utter incoherent words, went down after us, and struck 
the steps with his staff. Papa and mamma were walking 
hand in hand in the living-room, and discussing something. 
Marya Ivdnovna sat stiffly in an armchair, which sym- 
metrically adjoined the sofa at right angles, and in a stern, 
though reserved voice, gave instructions to the girls, who 
were sitting near her. 

The moment Karl Ivanovich entered the room, she 
glanced at him, immediately turned away, and her face 
assumed an expression which may be rendered by, “I do 
not notice you, Karl Ivanovich.” We could read in the 
eyes of the girls that they were anxious to transmit to us 
some very important information, but it would have been 
a transgression of Mimi’s rules to jump up from their seats 
and come to us. We had first to walk up to her, to say 
“ Bonjour, Mimi!” to scuff, and then only we were per- 
mitted to enter into a conversation. 

What an intolerable person that Mimi was! In her 


v4 CHILDHOOD 


presence it was not possible to speak about anything ; she 
found everything improper. Besides, she continually 
nagged us, “ Parlez donc frangais,” every time we, as if 
to spite her, wanted to chat in Russian; or, at dinner, we 
would just get the taste of some dish and would not want 
to be interrupted by any one, when she would burst in 
with “ Mangez done avec du pain,” or “ Comment-ce que 
vous tenez votre fourchette?” “What business has she 
with us?” we would think. “Let her teach the girls; we 
have Karl Ivanovich for that.” I absolutely shared his 
hatred of other people. 

« Ask mamma to take us out to the hunt,” said Kdtenka, 
in a whisper, stopping me by my blouse, when the grown 
people had entered the dining-room. 

« All right, we shall try.” 

Grisha dined in the dining-room, but at a separate table. 
He did not raise his eyes from his plate, but now and then 
sobbed, made terrible grimaces, and kept on saying, as if 
to himself, «A pity! flown away — the dove has flown to 
heaven — Oh, there is a stone on the grave!” and so on. 

Mamma had been out of humour since morning: the 
presence, words and acts of Grisha perceptibly intensified 
that feeling in her. 

“Oh, yes, I almost forgot to ask you for one thing,” said 
she, as she passed a plate of soup to father. 

“ What is it?” 

“Please have your awful dogs locked up; they almost 
bit poor Grisha to death as he crossed the yard. They 
might attack the children some day.” 

When Grisha heard them speaking about him, he turned 
toward the table, began to show the torn corners of his 
garment, and munching, said: 

“Wanted to kill. God did not let. A sin to hunt with 
dogs, a great sin! Strike no big ones, why strike? God 
will forgive, different days.” 

«What is he talking about?” asked papa, sharply 


THE SAINTLY FOOL Za 


and severely surveying him. “I do not understand a 
word.” 

“ But I understand,’ answered mamma. “ He is telling 
me that a certain hunter had on purpose urged the dogs 
against him, and so he says, ‘ Wanted to kill but God did 
not let,’ and he is asking you not to punish the hunter.” 

“Oh, that’s it?” said papa. “ But how does he know 
that I had intended to punish the hunter? You know, I 
am not at all fond of these gentlemen,” he continued in 
French, “ but this one is especially objectionable to me, 
and, no doubt —” 

“Oh, do not say that, my dear,’ mamma interrupted 
him, as if frightened at something, “how do you know ?” 

“Tt seems to me I have had occasion to become ac- 
quainted with his tribe, — there are a lot of them coming 
to see you, they are all of the same pattern. Always one 
and the same story.” 

It was evident mamma was of an entirely different 
opinion in regard to that matter, and did not wish to dis- 
cuss it. 

“Hand me that pasty, if you please,” said she. “Are 
they good to-day ?” 

“ No, I am angry,” continued papa, taking the pasty in 
his hand, but holding it at such a distance that mamma 
could not reach it, “no, I am angry whenever I see intel- 
ligent and cultivated people given to such deception.” 

And he struck the table with his fork. 

“T have asked you to hand me-the pasty,” repeated she, 
extending her hand. 

“They are doing just right,” continued papa, moving 
his hand away, “ when they put them in jail. The only 
good they do is to destroy the otherwise weak nerves of 
certain persons,” added he, with a smile, as he noticed that 
this conversation did not please mamma. Then he handed 
her the pasty. 

“T shall reply only this much to you: it is hard to be- 





24 CHILDHOOD 


lieve that a man who, in spite of his sixty years, in sum- 
mer and winter walks barefoot, and uninterruptedly wears 
under his garments chains of two puds in weight, and who 
more than once has declined the proposition to live in 
peace and contentment, — it is hard to believe that such 
a man should be doing it all out of laziness. As to the 
prophecies,” she added, with a sigh and after a short si- 
lence, “je suis payée pour y crotre, it seems to me, I have 
told you how Kiryisha foretold papa’s death to him to 
the very hour and day.” 

“Oh, what have you done with me?” said papa, smil- 
ing and placing his hand to his mouth on the side where 
Mimi was sitting. (Whenever he did so, I listened with 
redoubled attention, expecting something funny.) “Why 
did you remind me of his feet? I have looked at them, 
and now I sha’n’t eat anything.” 

The dinner was coming to an end. Lyvibochka and 
Katenka kept on winking to us, moving restlessly in their 
chairs, and, in general, showing great anxiety. This 
winking meant, “ Why do you not ask to take us to the 
hunt?” I nudged Volédya with my elbow. Volddya 
nudged me, and finally took courage; at first speaking in 
a timid voice, then more firmly and loudly, he declared 
that, as we were to depart to-day, we should like to have 
the girls go with us to the hunt, in the carriage. After a 
short consultation between the grown people, the question 
was decided in our favour, and, what was even more 
agreeable, mamma said she would herself go with us. 


VE 
PREPARATION FOR THE HUNT 


YAAKOV was called during the dessert and orders were 
given in regard to the carriage, the dogs, and the saddle- 
horses, — all this with the minutest details, calling each 
horse by its name. 

As Volédya’s horse was lame, papa ordered a hunter’s 
horse to be saddled for him. This word, “hunter’s horse,” 
somehow sounded strange in mamma’s ears; it seemed to 
her that a hunter’s horse must be some kind of a ferocious 
animal, which must by all means run away with and kill 
Volédya. In spite of the assurance of papa and of Voléd- 
dya, who said with remarkable pluck that it was all 
nothing and that he was very fond of being carried rapidly 
by a horse, poor mamma continued saying that she should 
be worrying during the whole picnic. 

The dinner came to an end. The grown people went 
into the cabinet to drink coffee, and we ran into the gar- 
den, to scuff along the paths, which were covered with 
fallen yellow leaves, and to have a chat. We began to 
talk about Volddya’s riding on a hunter’s horse, about its 
being a shame that Lytibochka did not run so fast as 
Kéatenka, about its being interesting to get a look at 
Grisha’s chains, and so on, but not a word was said of our 
departure. Our conversation was interrupted by the rattle 
of the approaching carriage, on each spring of which a 
village boy was seated. Behind the carriage followed the 


hunters with their dogs, and behind the hunters, coachman 
25 


26 CHILDHOOD 


Ignat, riding on the horse which was intended for Volddya, 
and leading my old nag by the hand. At first we all 
rushed to the fence, from which all these interesting things 
could be seen, and then we all ran up-stairs shouting and 
rattling, to get dressed, and to get dressed in such a man- 
ner as to resemble hunters most. One of the chief means 
for obtaining that end was to tuck our pantalcons into our 
boots. We betook ourselves to that work without any 
loss of time, hastening to get done as soon as possible and 
to run out on the veranda, to enjoy the sight of the dogs 
and of the horses, and to have a chat with the hunters. 

It was a hot day. White, fantastic clouds had ap- 
peared in the horizon early in the morning; then a soft 
breeze began to drive them nearer and nearer, so that at 
times they shrouded the sun. Though the clouds moved 
about and grew dark, it was, evidently, not fated that they 
should gather into a storm-cloud and break up our last 
enjoyment. Toward evening they again began to scatter: 
they grew paler, lengthened out, and ran down to the 
horizon ; others, above our very heads, changed into white, 
transparent scales; only one large, black cloud hovered 
somewhere in the east. Karl Ivdnovich always knew 
whither each cloud went. He announced that that cloud 
would go to Madslovka, that there would be no rain, and 
that the weather would be fine. 

Féka, in spite of his declining years, very nimbly and 
rapidly ran down-stairs, called out, “Drive up!” and, 
spreading his feet, planted himself in the middle of the 
driveway, between the place where the coachman was to 
drive up the carriage and the threshold, in the attitude of 
a man who need not be reminded of his duties. The 
ladies came down, and after a short discussion where each 
one was to sit, and to whom each one was to hold on 
(tbough, it seemed to me, there was no need at all to hold 
on), they seated themselves, opened their parasols, and 
started. As the carriage moved off, mamma pointed to the 


PREPARATION FOR THE HUNT oF 


“ hunter’s horse” and asked the coachman with a quiver- 
ing voice: 

“Ts this horse for Vladimir Petrdévich ?” 

When the coachman answered in the affirmative, she 
waved her hand and turned away. I was in great 
impatience. I mounted my pony, looked between its 
ears, and made all kinds of evolutions in the yard. 

“ Please not to crush the dogs,” said a hunter to me. 

“Have no fear, thisis not my first time,” answered I, 
proudly. 

Volédya seated himself on the “hunter’s horse” not 
without a certain trembling, in spite of the firmness of 
his character, and, patting it, asked several times: 

“Ts it a gentle horse ?” 

He looked very well on a horse, just like a grown 
person. His tightly stretched thighs lay so well on the 
saddle that I was envious, because, as far as I could 
judge by the shadow, I did not make such a fine 
appearance. 

Then papa’s steps were heard on the staircase. The 
dog-keeper collected the hounds that had run ahead. 
The hunters with their greyhounds called up their dogs, 
and all mounted their horses. The groom led a horse 
up to the veranda. The dogs of father’s leash, that had 
been lying before in various artistic positions near the 
horse, now rushed up to him. Milka ran out after him, 
in a beaded collar, tinkling her iron clapper. Whenever 
she came out, she greeted the dogs of the kennel; with 
some of them she played, others she scented or growled 
at, and on others, again, she looked for fleas. 

Papa mounted his horse, and we started. 


VEE 
THE HUNT 


TurRKA, the Chief Hunter, rode ahead of us, on a gray, 
hook-nosed horse. He wore a shaggy cap, and had 
a huge horn on his shoulders and a hunting-knife in his 
belt. From the gloomy and ferocious exterior of that 
man one would have concluded that he was going to 
a mortal conflict rather than to a hunt. At the hind feet 
of his horse ran, in a motley, wavering mass, the hounds, 
in close pack. It was a pity to see what fate befell 
the unfortunate hound that took it into his head to drop 
behind. In order to do so, he had to pull his companion 
with all his might, and whenever he accomplished it, one 
of the dog-keepers who rode behind struck him with his 
hunting-whip, calling out, “Back to the pack!” When 
he rode out of the gate, papa ordered the hunters and us 
to ride on the road, but he himself turned into the rye- 
field. 

The harvesting was in full blast. The immeasurable, 
bright yellow field was closed in only on one side by 
a tall, bluish forest which then appeared to me as a most 
distant and mysterious place, beyond which either the 
world came to an end, or uninhabitable countries began. 
The whole field was filled with sheaves and men. Here 
and there, in the high, thick rye, could be seen, in a 
reaped swath, the bent form of a reaping woman, the 


swinging of the ears as she drew them through her 
28 


THE HUNT 29 


fingers; a woman in the shade, bending over a cradle; 
and scattered stacks in the stubble-field that was over- 
grown with bluebottles. Elsewhere peasants in nothing 
but shirts, standing on carts, were loading the sheaves, 
and raising the dust on the dry, heated field. The village 
elder, in boots and with a camel-hair coat over his 
shoulders, and notched sticks in his hand, having noticed 
us in the distance, doffed his lambskin cap, wiped off his 
red-haired head and beard with a towel, and called out 
loud to the women. The sorrel horse on which papa was 
riding went at a light, playful canter, now and then drop- 
ping his head to his breast, drawing out his reins, and 
switching off with his heavy tail the horseflies and gnats 
that eagerly clung to him. 

Two greyhounds, bending their tails tensely in the 
shape of a sickle and lifting their legs high, gracefully 
leaped over the high stubble, behind the feet of the horse ; 
Milka ran in front and, bending her head, waited to be 
fed. The conversation of the people, the tramp of the 
horses, the rattle of the carts, the merry piping of 
the quails, the buzzing of the insects that hovered in the 
air in immovable clouds, the odour of wormwood, of straw, 
and of horses’ sweat, thousands of various flowers and of 
shadows which the burning sun spread over the light- 
yellow stubble-field, over the blue distance of the forest, 
and over the light, lilac clouds, the white cobwebs that 
were borne in the air or that lodged upon the stubbles, — 
all that I saw, heard, and felt. 

When we reached the Viburnum Forest, we found the 
carriage there and, above all expectation, another one- 
horse vehicle, in the midst of which sat the butler. 
Through the hay peeped a samovar, a pail with an ice- 
cream freezer, and a few attractive bundles and boxes. 
There was no mistaking; we were to have tea, ice-cream, 
and fruit in the open. At the sight of the vehicle we 
expressed a noisy delight, because it was regarded as a 


30 CHILDHOOD 


great pleasure to drink tea in the woods, on the grass, 
and, in general, in a spot where no one ever drank tea. 

Ttirka rode up to the grove, stopped, attentively lis- 
tened to papa’s minute instructions as to where to line 
up and where to come out (however, he never complied 
with these instructions, but did as he thought best), 
unloosed the dogs, fixed the braces, mounted his horse, 
and, whistling, disappeared behind the young birch-trees. 
The loosed hounds first expressed their pleasure by 
wagging their tails, then shook themselves, straightened 
themselves, and, scenting their way and shaking their 
tails, ran in different directions. 

“ Have you a handkerchief ?” asked papa. 

I took it out of my pocket and showed it to him. 

“ Well, so, take this gray dog on your handkerchief.” 

« Zhirdn ?” said I, with the look of a connoisseur. 

«Yes! and run along the road. When you come to 
a clearing, stop. And look out; do not come back to me 
without a hare!” 

I tied my handkerchief around Zhirdn’s shaggy neck, 
and ran headlong to the place indicated. Papa laughed 
and cried after me: 

“ Hurry up, hurry up, or you will be late!” 

Zhirdn kept stopping all the time, pricking his ears, 
and listening to the calls of the hunters. I did not have 
enough strength to pull him off, and I began to cry, 
«Ati! atu!” Then Zhirdn tugged so hard that I barely 
could hold him back and fell down several times before 
I could reach the place. Having found a shady, level 
spot at the foot of a tall oak-tree, I lay down in the 
grass, placed Zhirdn near me, and began to wait. My 
imagination, as generally happens under such circum- 
stances, far outran the actual facts; I imagined that I was 
baiting the third hare, whereas it was only the first 
hound that was heard in the woods. Turka’s voice was 
heard through the forest ever louder and more animated ; 


THE HUNT a | 


the hound whimpered, and his voice was heard more fre- 
quently ; a second, bass voice joined it, then a third, a 
fourth. These voices now grew silent, now interrupted 
each other. The sounds grew in volume and became less 
irregular, and finally ran together into one hollow, long- 
drawn tone. The grove was rich in echoes, and the 
hounds bayed incessantly. 

When I heard that, I remained as if petrified in my 
place. Fixing my eyes on the clearing, I smiled meaning- 
lessly ; the perspiration coursed down my face in a stream, 
and, though its drops, running over my cheek, tickled me, 
I did not wipe them off. It seemed to me that there 
could be nothing more decisive than this moment. The 
strain of this intent feeling was too great to last long. 
The hounds now bayed at the very clearing, now kept 
on receding from me. There was no hare. I began 
to look around me. The same mood seemed to possess 
Zhirdn ; at first he tugged to get away and whimpered ; 
then he lay down near me, placed his snout on my knees, 
and grew quiet. 

Near the bared roots of that oak-tree, under which I 
was sitting, ants were swarming over the gray, dry earth, 
between the dry oak leaves, acorns, dried up, lichen- 
covered sticks, yellowish green moss and the thin blades 
of grass that peeped through here and there. They were 
hastening, one after the other, along the foot-paths which 
they had laid out: some of them went with burdens, 
others without burdens. I took a stick in my hand and 
barred their way. It was a sight to see how some of 
them, despising the danger, crawled under the obstacle, 
while others crept over it; and some, especially those that 
were with burdens, were completely lost, and did not 
know what to do: they stopped, looked for a way round, 
or turned back, or climbing over the stick reached my 
hand and, it seemed, were trying to get in the sleeve 
of my blouse. I was distracted from these interesting 


oe CHILDHOOD 


observations by a butterfly with yellow wings that entic- 
ingly circled about me. The moment I directed my 
attention to it, it flew away some two steps from me, 
hovered above an almost withered white flower of wild 
clover, and alighted upon it. I do not know whether the 
sun warmed the butterfly, or whether it was drinking the 
juice of that flower,—in any case, it was evidently 
happy there. It now and then flapped its wings and 
pressed close to the flower; finally it remained perfectly 
quiet. I put my head on both my hands, and looked 
with delight at the butterfly. 

Suddenly Zhirén began to whine, and he tugged with 
such strength that I almost fell down. I looked around. 
At the edge of the forest leaped a hare, one of his ears 
lying flat and the other standing erect. The blood rushed 
to my head and I, forgetting myself for the moment, cried 
something in an unnatural voice, let the dog go, and 
started to run myself. No sooner had I done that, than 
I began to feel remorse; the hare squatted, took a leap, 
and I never saw him again. 

But what was my shame when Ttirka appeared from 
behind a bush, in the wake of the hounds that with one 
voice made for the open! He had seen my mistake 
(which was that I did not hold out), and, looking con- 
temptuously at me, he said only: “Ah, master!” But 
you should have heard how he said it! I should have 
felt better if he had hung me from his saddle like a hare. 

I stood long in the same spot in great despair, did not 
call the dog back, and only kept on repeating, striking my 
thighs: 

“O Lord, what have I done!” 

I heard the hounds coursing away; I heard them 
beating at the other end of the grove, and driving the 
hare, and Tiirka blowing his huge horn and calling the 
dogs, — but I did not budge. 


VIIL. 
GAMES 


THE hunt was ended. A rug was spread in the shade 
of young birch-trees, and the whole company seated 
themselves on it. Butler Gavrilo had stamped down the 
juicy green grass around him, and was wiping the plates 
and taking out of a box plums and peaches that were 
wrapped in leaves. The sun shone through the green 
branches of the birches, and cast round, quivering bits of 
light on the patterns of the rug, on my feet, and even on 
the bald, perspiring head of Gavrilo. <A light breeze that 
blew through the leafage of the trees, and over my hair 
and perspiring face, greatly refreshed me. 

When we had received our shares of ice-cream and 
fruit, there was nothing else to do on the rug, and we 
arose, in spite of the burning, oblique rays of the sun, and 
went away to play. 

“Well, what shall it be?” said Lytibochka, blinking 
from the sun and hopping about on the grass. “ Let us 
play Robinson.” 

“No, that is tiresome,” said Volddya, lazily throwing 
himself on the grass and chewing at some leaves, “that 
everlasting Robinson! If you want to play something, 
let us rather build an arbour.” 

Volédya evidently was playing the great gentleman: 
he, no doubt, was proud of having come on a hunter's 
horse, and he pretended he was very tired. But, on the 


other hand, he may have had too much common sense 
33 


34 CHILDHOOD 


and too little imagination to take complete enjoyment in 
the game of Robinson. The game consisted in perform- 
ing scenes from the “Swiss Family Robinson,” which we 
had lately read. 

“Well, why, pray, do you not want to give us that 
pleasure?” insisted the girls. “ You may be Charles, or 
Ernest, or the father, whichever you wish,” said Ké4- 
tenka, trying to raise him from the ground by the sleeve 
of his blouse. 

“Really, I don’t feel like it, it is tiresome!” said 
Volddya, stretching himself and at the same time smiling 
with self-satisfaction. 

“TY should have preferred to stay at home, if nobody 
wants to play,” said Lytibochka, through tears. 

She was a great blubberer. 

“Well, let us have it; only, please, stop weeping, — I 
can’t bear it!” 

Voldédya’s condescension gave us very little pleasure; 
on the contrary, his lazy and weary look destroyed all the 
charm of the game. When we seated ourselves on the 
ground and, imagining that we were rowing out to catch fish, 
began to row with all our might, Volddya sat down with 
crossed arms and in a pose which had nothing in common 
with the attitude of a fisherman. I told him so; but he 
answered that we should gain nothing from swinging our 
arms more or less, and that we should not get far away 
anyhow. I involuntarily agreed with him. When I 
imagined that, holding a stick over my shoulder, I was 
going into the woods to hunt, Voldédya lay flat on his 
back, with his hands behind his head, and told me that 
he was going there too. Such actions and words cooled 
our zest for the game, and were extremely unpleasant, 
the more so since, in reality, we could not help admitting 
that Volédya acted wisely. 

I know myself that with a stick it is not possible to 
kill a bird, or even to shoot at all. That is only a game. 


GAMES 35 


But if one were to judge that way, it would not even 
be possible to ride on chairs; and yet, Volédya him- 
self remembers, I think, how in the long winter even- 
ings we used to cover an armchair with a cloth, and 
make a carriage of it; one took the coachman’s seat, 
another the lackey’s, the girls were in the middle, 
three stools were the three horses, — and we started off 
on the road. And what different kinds of accidents used 
to happen on that road, and how merrily and swiftly 
those winter evenings passed away! To judge by what 
was going on now, there would be no game. And if there 
were to be no game, what, then, would be left ? 


IX. 
SOMETHING LIKE FIRST LOVE 


As Lytibochka represented that she was plucking some 
American fruit from a tree, she pulled down, together 
with a leaf, an immense worm; she threw it away in 
terror, lifted up her hands, and jumped aside, as if afraid 
that something might burst from it. The game stopped, 
we all fell to the ground, touching our heads, to get 
a glimpse of that peculiar thing. 

I was looking over Kaétenka’s shoulder, who was trying 
to lift the worm on a leaf which she placed in its way. 

I had noticed that many girls were in the habit of 
shrugging their shoulders, whenever they tried to restore 
the low-necked dress to its proper place. I remember 
how Mimi used to get angry at that motion, saying: 
“C'est un geste de femme de chambre.” As Kéatenka 
was bending over the worm, she made that very motion, 
and at the same time the wind raised her little braid from 
her white neck. Her shoulder was, during that motion 
of hers, about two feet from my lips. I was no longer 
looking at the worm, but right straight at her shoulder, 
which I gave a smacking kiss. She did not turn round, 
but I noticed that her neck and ears were blushing. 
Voldédya did not raise his head, but said, contemptuously : 

“« What tenderness!” 

There were tears in my eyes. 

I did not take my eyes away from Kétenka. I had 


long been used to her fresh, fair face, and I always loved 
36 


SOMETHING LIKE FIRST LOVE 37 


it; but now I began to look more closely at it, and 
loved it even more. When we walked up to the grown 
people, papa announced to our great delight that, at 
mother’s request, our departure was postponed till the 
next morning. 

We rode back together with the carriage. Volddya 
and I, desirous to surpass each other in the art of horse- 
back riding and in daring, made all kinds of evolutions 
near it. My shadow was now longer than before, and, 
judging by it, I supposed that I had the appearance of a 
fine-looking rider; but the feeling of self-satisfaction 
which I was experiencing was soon shattered by the fol- 
lowing incident. Wishing to gain the final applause of 
all those who were seated in the carriage, I lagged a little 
behind, then, with the aid of whip and legs, put the horse 
to a gallop, assumed a carelessly graceful attitude, and 
attempted to pass in a whirl on the side of the carriage, 
where Katenka was sitting. The only thing I did not 
know was whether to pass by in silence, or with a shout. 
But the miserable horse stopped so suddenly the moment it 
came in a line with the carriage horses, in spite of all my 
efforts to the contrary, that I flew over the saddle upon 
its neck, and came very near rolling off. 


X. 
THE KIND OF A MAN MY FATHER WAS 


HE was a man of the past age, and had the indefinable 
character, common to the youths of that time, a compound 
of chivalry, daring, self-confidence, amiability and merri- 
ment. He looked contemptuously at the people of the 
present generation, which view originated as much in his 
inborn haughtiness, as in the secret annoyance because in 
our age he could have neither that influence, nor those 
successes, which he had enjoyed in his. His two chief 
passions in life were cards and women; he had won 
several millions in the course of his life, and he had 
liaisons with an endless number of women of all classes of 
society. 

A tall, stately stature, a strange, mincing gait, a habit 
of shrugging his shoulder, small, eternally smiling eyes, a 
large, aquiline nose, irregular lips that were folded rather 
awkwardly, but pleasantly, a defective enunciation, — he 
lisped, — and a head entirely bald: such was the exterior 
of my father ever since I can remember him, — an 
exterior with which he managed not only to pass for a 
man & bonnes fortunes, —and he really was such, — but 
even to be in favour with people of all conditions of life, 
especially with those whom he wished to please. 

He knew how to get the best out of his relations with 
everybody. Although he had never been a man of very 
fashionable society, he always cultivated the acquaintance 


of people of that circle, and he did this in such a manner 
38 


THE KIND OF A MAN MY FATHER WAS 39 


as to be respected. He was possessed of that extreme 
measure of pride and_ self-confidence which, without 
offending others, raised him in the opinion of the world. 
He was original, though not always so, and he used this 
originality as a means of social advancement which in 
some cases took the place of worldliness and wealth. 
Nothing in the world could rouse in him a feeling of sur- 
prise: in whatever brilliant position he happened to be, 
he always seemed to have been born for it. He knew so 
well how to hide from others and remove from himself the 
dark side of life which is filled with petty annoyances 
and grief, that it was impossible not to envy him. He 
was a connoisseur in all things that furnish comfort and 
enjoyment, and he knew how to use them. 

His hobby was his brilliant connections, which he pos- 
sessed partly through my mother’s family relations, partly 
through the companions of his youth. But at them he 
was angered in his heart, because they had far advanced 
in rank, while he for ever remained a Lieutenant of the 
Guard, out of service. Like all former military men, he 
did not know how to dress fashionably; but he dressed 
originally and with taste. He always wore ample light 
raiment, beautiful linen, large turned-back cuffs and col- 
lars. And everything was well adapted to his tall stature, 
strong frame, bald head, and quiet, self-confident motions. 

He was sensitive and even given to weeping. Fre- 
quently, when in reading aloud he reached a pathetic 
passage, his voice would falter, and tears appear, and he 
would angrily put down the book. He loved music and 
sang, accompanying himself at the piano, the ditties of his 
friend A , gipsy songs and some arias from operas; 
but he did not like “scientific” music and, disregarding 
the commonly accepted opinion, openly said that Beet- 
hoven’s sonatas made him sleepy and tired, and that he 
knew nothing better than “Wake me not, while I am 
young,’ as Madam Seménov used to sing it, and “ Not 





40 CHILDHOOD 


alone,” as the gipsy maiden Tanytisha sang it. His nature 
was one of those which for a good deed need a public. 
God knows whether he had any moral convictions. His 
life was so full of distractions of all kinds that he had 
had no time to form them, and he was so fortunate in his 
life that he saw no need for them. 

In his old age he formed settled opinions and invari- 
able rules for everything, but they were all based exclu- 
sively on a practical basis. Those acts and that conduct 
of life which caused him happiness and pleasure he 
regarded as good, and he considered that all people ought 
at all times to act likewise. He spoke with great enthu- 
siasm, and that ability, it seemed to me, increased the 
flexibility of his rules: he was not able to speak of 
the same deed as a very pleasant jest and as an act 
of low rascality. 


XI. 


OCCUPATIONS IN THE CABINET AND IN THE SITTING- 
ROOM 


IT was getting dark when we reached home. Mamma 
seated herself at the piano, and we children brought 
paper, pencils, and paint, and took up positions at the 
round table. I had only some blue paint; yet I began to 
picture the hunt with that alone. Having very vividly 
represented a blue boy astride on a blue horse, and blue 
dogs, I was not quite sure whether it was proper to paint 
a blue hare, and so I ran into papa’s cabinet to take coun- 
sel with him. Papa was reading something, and to my 
question, “ Are there any blue hares?” he answered, with- 
out raising his head, “There are, my dear, there are.” I 
returned to the round table and painted a blue hare; but 
I found it necessary later to change the blue hare into a 
bush. The bush did not please me either; I made a tree 
of it, and of the tree I made a hay rick, and of the rick a 
cloud, and finally I so smeared the whole paper over with 
the blue paint, that I tore it up in anger, and dozed off in 
an armchair. 

Mamma was playing the second concert of Field, her 
teacher. I was dozing, and in my imagination rose some 
light, bright and transparent recollections. She began to 
play a pathetic sonata of Beethoven, and something sad, 
heavy and gloomy overcast my mind. Mamma often 
played these two pieces. I very well remember, there- 


fore, the feeling which they evoked in me. That feeling 
4] 


42 CHILDHOOD 


resembled recollections, but recollections of what? It 
seemed to me that I was recalling something that had 
never been. 

Opposite me was the door to the cabinet, and I saw 
Yakov and some other people in caftans and beards enter- 
ing through it. The door was at once closed after them. 
«Well, now the occupation has begun!” thought I. It 
seemed to me there was nothing more important in the 
whole world than the affairs which were transacted in the 
cabinet. I was strengthened in this belief because people 
generally walked up to the door of the cabinet whispering 
and on tiptoe, while from it was heard papa’s loud voice, 
and was borne the odour of a cigar which, for some reason, ~ 
always attracted me. In my waking moments I was sud- 
denly struck by a familiar creaking of boots in the offi- 
ciating room. Karl Ivanovich walked up on tiptoe, but 
with a gloomy and firm face, holding some kind of notes 
in his hand, and lightly knocked at the door. He was 
admitted, and the door was again closed. 

“I wonder whether some misfortune has happened,” 
thought I. “Karl Ivanovich is angry, and he is capable of 
doing almost anything.” 

I again fell asleep. 

There was, however, no misfortune. An hour later the 
same creaking boots awoke me. Karl Ivdnovich, with his 
handkerchief wiping off the tears which I had noticed on 
his cheeks, issued from the door, and mumbling something 
to himself, went up-stairs. Papa came out after him, and 
entered the sitting-room. 

“Do you know what I have just decided?” said he in 
a happy voice, placing his hand on mamma’s shoulder. 

“What, my dear?” 

“T shall take Karl Ivdnovich along with the children. 
They are used to him, and he, it seems, is really attached 
to them. Seven hundred roubles a year does not amount 
to much, et puis au fond c'est un trés bon diable.” 


OCCUPATIONS IN CABINET AND SITTING-ROOM 43 


I could not at all grasp why papa was scolding Karl 
Ivanovich. 

“T am very glad,” said mamma, “ both for the children 
and for him; he is an excellent old man.” 

“You ought to have seen how touched he was when I 
told him that he should leave the five hundred roubles as 
a present for the children! But what is most amusing is 
the bill which he brought me. It is worth looking at,” 
added he, with a smile, as he gave her the note which had 
been written by Karl Ivdnovich’s hand. “ It is fine!” 

Here are the contents of the note. 

“ For the children two fishing-rod — 70 kopek. 

“Coloured paper, gold border, glew and form for boxs, 
as presents -— 6 roubles 55 kopek. 

“ A book and bow, presents to children — 8 roubles 16 
kopek. 

« Pantaloon to Nikolay — 4 rouble. 

“ Promised by Peter Alekséntrofich from Moscow in the 
year 18— gold watch at 140 roubles. 

“Sum total due to Karl Mauer outside of salary — 159 
roubles 79 kopek.” é 

Reading this note, in which Karl Ivdénovich demanded 
payment for all his expenditures for presents, and even 
for a present which he had been promised, everybody 
will conclude that Karl Ivdnovich was nothing more 
than an unfeeling and avaricious egoist, but that is a 
mistake. 

When he entered the cabinet with the notes in his hand 
and with a ready speech in his head, he had intended to 
expatiate to papa on all the injustice which he had suf- 
fered in our house, but when he began to speak in the 
same touching voice and the same touching intonations in 
which he generally dictated to us, his eloquence acted most 
powerfully upon himself, so that when he reached the 
place where he said, “However sad it will be for me to 
part from the children,” he completely lost himself, his 


44 CHILDHOOD 


voice began to tremble, and he was compelled to get his 
checkered handkerchief out of his pocket. 

« Yes, Peter Aleksdndrych,” said he through tears (that 
passage was not at all in his prepared speech), “I am so 
accustomed to the children that I do not know what I am 
going to do without them. I should prefer to serve you 
without pay,” he added, with one hand wiping his tears, 
and with the other handing in his bill. 

I am absolutely sure that Karl Ivdnovich was that 
moment speaking sincerely, because I know his good 
heart; but it remains a mystery to me how his bill har- 
monized with his words. 

“ Tf the parting is sad for you, it is still sadder for me,” 
said papa, tapping his shoulder. “I have now changed my 
mind.” 

Shortly before supper, Grisha entered the room. He 
had not ceased sobbing and weeping from the time he had 
come to our home, which, in the opinion of those who 
believed in his ability to predict, foreboded some misfor- 
tune for our house. He began to take leave, and said that 
the next morning he would wander on. I beckoned to 
Voldédya, and went out-of-doors. 

“What ?” 

“Tf you want to see Grisha’s chains, let us go up-stairs, 
to the apartments of the male servants. Grisha sleeps 
there in the second room, and we can see everything from 
the lumber-room, and we shall see everything —” 

“Superb! Wait here awhile; I will call the girls.” 

The girls came out, and we proceeded up-stairs. After 
some dispute as to who should be the first to go into the 
dark lumber-room, we seated ourselves, and began to wait. 


>. 4% 
GRISHA 


WE felt ill at ease in the darkness. We pressed close 
to each other, and did not say aword. Almost right after 
us Grisha entered with slow steps. In one hand he held 
his staff, in the other a tallow dip in a brass candlestick. 
We did not dare to breathe. 

“Lord Jesus Christ! Holy Mother of God! To the 
Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost,” repeated he, breath- 
ing heavily, with all kinds of intonations and abbrevia- 
tions which are peculiar only to those who often repeat 
these words. 

Having, with a prayer, placed his staff in the corner, 
and surveying his bed, he began to undress. Ungirding 
his old black belt, he slowly took off his torn nankeen 
frock, carefully folded it, and hung it over the back of the 
chair. His face did not now express, as usually, dulness 
and haste; on the contrary, he was quiet, pensive, and 
even majestic. His motions were slow and thoughtful. 

When he was left in the linen, he softly let himself 
down on his bed, made the sign of the cross over it on 
all sides, and, as could easily be seen, with an effort (he 
was frowning) rearranged the chains under his shirt. 
Having remained for a minute in a sitting posture, and 
carefully examining the linen which had been torn in 
places, he arose, with a prayer raised the candle on a 
level with the holy shrine, in which were a few images, 


made the sign of the cross toward them, and turned the 
45 


46 CHILDHOOD 


candle upside down. It went out with a crackling 
sound. 

The almost full moon burst through the windows that 
looked out upon the forest. The long, white figure of 
the fool was, on the one side, illuminated by the pale, 
silvery beams of the moon, and, on the other, it fell as a 
black shadow, together with the shadows from the frames, 
upon the floor and the walls, and reached up to the ceil- 
ing. In the yard the watchman was beating his brass 
plate. 

Crossing his enormous hands on his breast, dropping 
his head, and continually drawing deep breaths, Grisha 
stood silently before the images, then with difficulty let 
himself down on his knees and began to pray. 

At first he softly said familiar prayers, accentuating 
certain words, then he repeated them, but louder and 
with more animation. He began to use his own words, 
with perceptible effort trying to express himself in Church- 
Slavic. His words were incorrect, but touching. He 
prayed for all his benefactors (thus he called all who re- 
ceived him), among them for my mother, and for us; he 
prayed for himself, and asked the Lord to forgive him his 
heavy sins, and repeated, “O Lord, forgive mine ene- 
mies!” He arose with groans, still repeating the same 
words, prostrated himself upon the ground, and again 
arose, in spite of the weight of the chains that emitted a 
grating, penetrating sound as they struck the ground. 

Volédya pinched my leg very painfully, but I did not 
even turn round. I only rubbed the place with my hand 
and continued, with a feeling of childish wonder, pity, 
and awe, to follow all the movements and words of 
Grisha. . 

Instead of merriment and laughter, which I had ex- 
pected upon entering the lumber-room, I now experienced 
a chill and anguish of soul. 

Grisha was for a long time in that attitude of religious 


GRISHA 47 


ecstasy, and he improvised prayers. Now he repeated 
several times in succession, “ The Lord have mercy upon 
me,” but every time with new strength and expression ; 
now, again, he said, “ Forgive me, O Lord, instruct me 
what to do, instruct me what to do, O Lord!” with an 
expression, as if he expected an immediate answer to his 
prayer; now, again, were heard only pitiful sobs. He 
rose on his knees, crossed his arms on his breast, and 
grew silent. 

I softly put my head out of the door, and did not 
breathe. Grisha did not move; deep sighs escaped from 
his breast; in the dim pupil of his blind eye, which 
was illuminated by the moon, stopped a tear. 

“Thy will be done!” he suddenly exclaimed with an 
inimitable expression, knocked his brow against the floor, 
and began to sob like an infant. 

Much water has flowed since then, many memories of 
the past have lost all meaning for me and have become 
dim recollections, and pilgrim Grisha has long ago ended 
his last pilgrimage; but the impression which he pro- 
duced on me, and the feeling which he evoked, will 
never die in my memory. 

O great Christian Grisha! Your faith was so strong 
that you felt the nearness of God; your love was so great 
that words flowed of their own will from your lips, and 
you did not verify them by reason. And what high 
praise you gave to His majesty, when, not finding any 
words, you prostrated yourself on the ground ! 

The feeling of contrition with which I listened to 
Grisha could not last long; in the first place, because my 
curlosity was satisfied, and, in the second, because my 
feet had fallen asleep from sitting so long in one posture, 
and I wanted to join in the general whispering and con- 
sultation which was taking place behind me in the dark 
lumber-room. Somebody touched my hand, and said in 
a whisper, “ Whose hand is it?” It was very dark in 


48 CHILDHOOD 


the lumber-room, but, by the mere touch and by the 
voice that was whispering right over my ear, I imme- 
diately recognized Katenka. 

Quite unconsciously I seized her short-gloved arm at 
the elbow, and pressed my lips against it. Kdtenka, it 
seems, was surprised at this action, and drew her hand 
back; in doing so, she knocked down a broken chair 
which was standing in the lumber-room. Grisha raised 
his head, quietly looked around and, saying his prayer, 
began to make the sign of the cross in all the corners. 
We ran out of the lumber-room noisily. 


ae GM 
NATALYA SAVISHNA 


In the middle of the last century there used to run 
about the yards of the village Khabdrovka, in a dress of 
ticking, the barefoot, but merry, fat, and red-cheeked 
girl, Natdshka. On account of the deserts, and at the 
request of her father, the clarinet-player Savva, my grand- 
father took her “up-stairs,” to be among the female 
servants of grandmother. Chambermaid Natdshka distin- 
guished herself in that capacity, both by her meekness 
of manner and by her zeal. When mother was born, and 
a nurse was needed, this duty fell on Natdashka. In that 
new field she earned praises and rewards for her activity, 
faithfulness, and attachment to the young miss. But 
the powdered head and the buckled stockings of young, 
dapper, officious Féka, who had frequent relations with 
her during his duties, charmed her coarse, but loving 
heart. She had even made up her own mind to go to 
grandfather to ask his permission to marry Féka. Grand- 
father received her wish as a sign of her ingratitude, 
grew angry, and sent poor Natdlya, as a punishment, 
into the cattleyard in a village of the steppes. Six 
months later, however, since there was no one who could 
take her place, she was brought back to the estate, and 
restored to her old position. As she returned from ban- 
ishment in her ticking garments, she appeared before 
grandfather, fell down before his feet, and asked him to 


restore her to his former favour and kindness, and to for- 
49 


50 CHILDHOOD 


get her old infatuation which, she swore, would never 
again return. And, indeed, she kept her word. 

Since then Natdshka became Natdlya Sdvishna, and 
donned a cap; all the abundance of love which she treas- 
ured she transferred to her young lady. 

When a governess took her place with my mother, she 
received the keys of the larder, and all the linen and the 
provisions were placed in her hands. She executed her 
new duties with the same zeal and love. She lived only 
for the good of her masters, and seeing in everything loss, 
ruin, and misappropriation, tried in all ways to counteract 
them. 

When mamma married, she wished to show her appre- 
ciation of Natalya Sdvishna’s twenty years’ labour and 
faithfulness; so she sent for her, and expressing in the 
most flattering words all her gratefulness and love for 
her, handed her a sheet of paper with a revenue stamp 
upon it, on which was written Natalya Sdvishna’s eman- 
cipation, adding that, no matter whether she continued to 
serve in our house or not, she would receive a yearly pen- 
sion of three hundred roubles. Natdlya listened to all 
that in silence, then, taking the document in her hands, 
angrily looked upon it, mumbled something between her 
teeth, and ran out of the room, slamming the door behind 
her. Mamma did not understand the cause of her strange 
act, so, waiting a few minutes, she went into Natdlya 
Sévishna’s room. She was sitting with tearful eyes upon 
her coffer, fingering her handkerchief, and was looking 
fixedly at the bits of the torn emancipation document 
that were lying near her feet. 

“What is the matter with you, my dear Natdlya?” 
asked mamma, as she took her hand. 

“Nothing, motherkin,” answered she. “Evidently I 
have in some way displeased you, that you are chasing 
me from the estate. Well, I shall go.” 

She tore her band away and, scarcely restraining her 


NATALYA SAVISHNA 51 


tears, wanted to rush out of the room. Mamma kept 
her back, embraced her, and they both melted into tears. 

As far back as I can remember myself, I remember 
Natalya Sdvishna, her love and her favours; but it is only 
now that I am able to estimate them, — for then it never 
occurred to me what a rare and remarkable being that old 
woman was. She not only never spoke, but, it seems, 
she never even thought of herself; all her life consisted 
of love and self-sacrifice. I was so accustomed to her 
unselfish, tender love for us that I did not imagine it 
could have been otherwise, in no way was grateful to her, 
and never asked myself whether she was happy or satisfied. 

At times I would run into her chamber, under the pre- 
text of some absolute necessity, and would sit down and 
begin to think aloud, not being in the least troubled by 
her presence. She was always busy with something: she 
either knitted some stockings or ruammaged through the 
coffers with which her chamber was crowded, or took a 
list of the linen, and, listening to all the nonsense which 
I was talking, how, “when I shall be a general, I will 
marry a famous beauty, will buy me a red horse, will 
build me a glass house, and will send for Karl Ivdnovich’s 
relatives in Saxony,” and so forth, she would say, “ Yes, 
my dear, yes.” Generally, when I got up to go, she 
opened a blue coffer, on the lid of which were pasted, on 
the inside, -I remember it as if it happened to-day, —a 
coloured reproduction of a hussar, a picture with a poma- 
tum can, and a drawing by Volddya, — took out of that 
box some incense, lighted it, and, fanning, said: 

“This, my dear one, is incense from Ochdkov. When 
your deceased grandfather — the kingdom of heaven be 
his !— went against the Turks, he brought it back from 
there. There is only this last piece left,” she added 
with a sigh. 

In the coffers that filled the room there was absolutely 
everything. No matter what was needed, they used to 


52 CHILDHOOD 


say, “We ought to ask Natdlya Sdvishna,” and, indeed, 
after rummaging awhile, she would find the necessary 
article and declare, “Luckily I have put it away.” In 
these coffers there were thousands of such articles of 
which nobody in the house knew anything, and for which 
no one cared, except she. 

Once I was angry with her. It happened like this. 
At dinner, as I was pouring out a glass of kvas, I 
dropped the bottle and spoiled the table-cloth. 

“Call Natdlya Savishna to see what her darling child 
has done,” said mamma. 

Natdlya Sdvishna entered, and, seeing the puddle which 
I had made, shook her head; then mamma said some- 
thing in her ear, and she went out threatening me with 
her finger. 

After dinner I went into the parlour, leaping about in 
the happiest frame of mind, when suddenly Natdlya 
Sdvishna jumped from behind the door, with the table- 
cloth in her hands, caught me, and began to wipe my face 
with the wet part of it, all the time saying: “ Don’t soil 
table-cloths, don’t soil table-cloths!” That so incensed 
me, that I bawled from anger. 

“What!” said I to myself, as I walked about the par- 
lour and choked with tears, “Natalya Sdvishna, simple 
Natdlya, says ‘thou’ to me, and strikes my face with a 
wet table-cloth, as if I were a common village boy. No, 
that is terrible!” 

When Natdlya Sdvishna saw that I was blubbering, 
she ran away, but I continued to strut about and to con- 
sider how to repay insolent Natdlya for the insult which 
she had offered me. 

A few minutes later Natdlya Sdvishna returned, timidly 
accosted me, and began to console me. 

“Do stop, my dear one, stop weeping — forgive me, 
foolish woman —I have done wrong— you will forgive 
me, my darling — here is something for you.” 


NATALYA SAVISHNA 53 


She took from her handkerchief a cornet, in which 
were two pieces of caramels and one fig, and with a trem- 
bling hand gave them to me. I did not have enough 
strength to look into the face of the good old woman; I 
turned away, as I accepted the present, and my tears 
began to flow more copiously, this time not from anger, 
but from love and shame. 


XIV. 


i 


THE SEPARATION 


On the day following the incidents described by me, at 
the twelfth hour, a carriage and a calash stood at the 
entrance. Nikoldy was dressed in travelling fashion; that 
is, his trousers were tucked into his boots and his coat 
was tightly girded by a belt. He was standing in the 
calash and arranging the ulsters and pillows on the seats; 
if they seemed too much puffed, he seated himself on the 
pillows, and, leaping up and down, pressed them into 
shape. 

“For the Lord’s sake, do us the favour, Nikoléy Dmit- 
trich, to see whether you can’t put in the master’s strong 
box,” said papa’s valet, breathlessly, as he stuck his head 
out of the carriage; “it is a small affair.” 

«You ought to have said so before, Mikhéy Ivanych,” 
answered Nikoldy hastily and in anger, throwing with 
all his might a bundle into the bottom of the calash. 
“Upon my word, my head is in a whirl as it is, and 
there you are bothering me with your strong boxes,” he 
added, raising his cap, and wiping off large drops of per- 
spiration from his sun-browned face. 

The manorial peasants, in coats, caftans, and shirts, 
and without hats, the women in ticking skirts and striped 
kerchiefs, with babes in their arms, and the boys barefoot, 
stood around the veranda, examined the vehicles, and 
conversed with each other. One of the drivers, a stoop- 


ing old man in a winter cap and a camel-hair coat, held 
54 


THE SEPARATION 5 


in his hand the shaft of the carriage, moved it to and fro, 
and thoughtfully looked at the wheels; another, a fine- 
looking young lad, clad only in a white shirt with red 
Bukhara cotton gussets, and wearing a black lambskin 
cap shaped like a cylindrical buckwheat cake, which he, 
scratching his blond locks, poised now on one ear, now 
on the other, put his camel-hair coat on the coachman’s 
box, threw the reins there also and, snapping his plaited 
whip, looked now at his boots, now at the coachmen who 
were greasing the calash. One of them, straining him- 
self, was holding a jack; another, bending over the wheel, 
was carefully greasing the axle and the axle-box, and, 
not to lose the last bit of grease left on the brush, smeared 
it on the lower part of the rim. 

Variously coloured, weak-kneed post-horses stood at the 
picket fence and switched the flies off with their tails. 
Some of them, spreading their shaggy, swollen legs, 
blinked their eyes and were dozing; others rubbed each 
other, from ennui, or nibbled at leaves or stalks of rough, 
dark-green ferns that grew near the veranda. A few 
greyhounds either breathed heavily, lying in the sun, or 
walked about in the shade under the carriage and calash, 
and licked the grease which oozed out of the axles. There 
was a dusty mist in the air, and the horizon was of gray- 
ish olive hue; but there was not a cloud to be seen in the 
whole sky. A strong westerly wind raised columns of dust 
from the roads and fields, bent the tops of the tall linden- 
trees and birches of the garden, and carried far away 
the falling yellow leaves. I was sitting near the window, 
and impatiently was waiting for the end of all the prepa- 
rations. 

When all had gathered in the sitting-room near the 
round table, in order to pass a few minutes together, for 
the last time, it did not occur to me what a sad moment 
awaited us. The most trifling thoughts were crossing my 
brain. I asked myself: which coachman will ride in the 


56 CHILDHOOD 


calash, and which one in the carriage? Who will travel 
with papa, and who with Karl Ivanovich? and why do 
they insist in wrapping me in a shawl and a wadded 
jacket ? 

“Tam not as tender as that. Don’t be afraid, I shall 
not freeze. If only there will soon be an end to it all! 
If we just could get seated, and be off !” 

“To whom will you order me to give a note about the 
children’s linen ?” said Natalya Saévishna, who had entered 
with tearful eyes and carrying a note in her hand, as she 
turned to mamma. 

“Give it to Nikolay, and then come to tell the children 
good-bye !” 

The old woman wanted to say something, but suddenly 
stopped, covered her face with her handkerchief, and, 
motioning with her hand, left the room. My heart was 
pinched when I saw her motion; but my impatience to 
travel was greater than my sympathy, and I continued 
to listen with complete indifference to the conversation 
between father and mother. They were evidently speak- 
ing about things that interested neither the one nor the 
other: what it was necessary to buy for the house; what 
to say to Princess Sophie and Madame Julie; and whether 
the road would be good. 

Féka entered, and in the same voice in which he 
announced “Dinner is served,” he said, as he stopped 
on the threshold, “ The horses are ready.” I noticed how 
mamma shuddered and grew pale at this bit of news, as 
if it had been something unforeseen by her. 

Féka was ordered to close all the doors in the house. 
That amused me very much, “as if everybody were hiding 
from somebody.” 

When all seated themselves, — Féka, too, sat down on 
the edge of a chair,— but the moment he did that, the 
door creaked, and everybody looked round. Natdlya 
rapidly entered the room, and, without raising her eyes, 


THE SEPARATION 57 


seated herself at the door on the same chair with Féka. 
I see clearly the bald, wrinkled face of Féka and the 
bent, kindly figure in the cap, underneath which gray 
hair peeped out. They are both pressing together on one 
chair, and they both feel uncomfortable. 

I continued to be careless and impatient. The ten 
seconds during which we sat with closed doors appeared 
to me a whole hour. Finally all arcse, made the sign of 
the cross, and began to take leave. Papa embraced 
mamma, and kissed her several times. 

“That will do, my dear!” said papa; “we are not 
departing for an age.” 

“Tt is sad, nevertheless!” said mamma, in a voice 
trembling with tears. 

When I heard that voice and saw her quivering lips 
and eyes full of tears, I forgot everything, and I felt so 
sad, so pained, and so utterly wretched, that I wanted 
rather to run away than to bid her farewell. I under- 
stood at that moment that when she embraced father, 
she really was bidding us farewell. 

She began so many times to kiss Volddya and to make 
the sign of the cross over him that, supposing she was 
going to turn to me, I pushed myself forward, but she 
again and again blessed him and pressed him to her 
breast. At last, I embraced her and, clinging to her, wept 
and wept, thinking of nothing but my sorrow. 

When we went out to seat ourselves in the vehicles, 
the annoying manorial servants followed to bid us good- 
bye. Their “ Please, your hand, sir,” their smacking kisses 
on the shoulder, and the odour of lard from their heads 
provoked in me a feeling very much akin to disgust. 
Under the influence of that feeling I very coldly kissed 
Natalya Sdvishna’s cap, while she, all in tears, bade me 
farewell. 

It is strange, but I see all the faces of the servants as 
if it had happened to-day, and I could paint them with 


58 CHILDHOOD 


their minutest details, but mamma’s face and location 
have absolutely escaped from my imagination, — perhaps, 
because at that time I could not gather courage to take 
one good look at her. It then seemed to me that if I 
were to do so, my grief and hers would reach impossible 
limits. 

I rushed before the others to the carriage and seated 
myself in the back seat. As the top was raised, I could 
not see anything, but a certain instinct told me that 
mamma was still there. 

“Shall I take one more glance at her, or not? Well, 
for the last time!” said I to myself, and put my head out 
of the carriage toward the veranda. Just at that time, 
mamma, with the same thought, had come up from the 
opposite side to the carriage, and was calling me by name. 
When I heard her voice behind me, I turned toward her, 
but did it so rapidly that we knocked our heads together : 
she smiled sadly, and for the last time gave me a tight 
embrace and a kiss. 

When we had moved away a few fathoms, I decided 
to look at her. The wind had raised the blue kerchief 
with which her head was tied; dropping her head and 
covering her face with her hands, she slowly walked up 
the veranda. Fdéka was sustaining her. 

Papa was seated by my side, but he did not say any- 
thing. I choked with tears, and something so compressed 
my throat that I was afraid I would strangle. When we 
drove out on the highway, we saw a white handkerchief 
which some one on the balcony was waving. I began to 
wave mine, and this motion calmed mea little. I con- 
tinued to sob, and the thought that my tears were a proof 
of my sensitiveness gave me pleasure and joy. 

When we had travelled about a verst, I sat down more 
calmly, and I began to look with stubborn attention at 
the nearest object before my eyes, — the hind part of the 
side horse that ran on my side. I watched that dappled 


THE SEPARATION 59 


horse flapping his tail, and striking one leg against another, 
which made the driver crack his plaited whip at him, and 
then his legs began to move more evenly. I saw the 
harness leaping about, and the rings upon it, and I kept 
on looking at the harness until it became lathered at the 
tail. I began to look around me: at the waving fields of 
ripe rye; at the dark fallow field on which here and there 
a plow, a peasant, and a mare with her colt could be seen ; 
at the verst posts, and even at the coachman’s box, in or- 
der to see who the driver was. My face was not yet dry 
from its tears, when my thoughts were far away from my 
mother, whom I had left, perhaps, for ever. But every 
reminiscence led my thoughts to her. I recalled the 
mushroom which I had found the day before in the avenue 
of birches; I recalled how Lytibochka and Katenka dis- 
puted who was te pluck it, and I recalled how they wept 
when they bade us farewell. 

“Tam sorry to leave them, and I am sorry for Natdlya 
Sdvishna, and for the birch avenue, and for Féka! I am 
sorry to leave even growling Mimi. I am sorry for 
everything, for everything! And poor mamma!” And 
tears again stood in my eyes, but not for long. 


XV. 
CHILDHOOD 


Happy, happy, irretrievable period of childhood! How 
can one help loving and cherishing its memories? These 
memories refresh and elevate my soul and serve me as a 
source of my best enjoyments. 

I remember how, having frisked about until tired, I sat at 
the tea table in my high chair. It was late. I had long 
ago drunk my cup of milk and sugar; sleep closed my 
eyes, but I did not budge from the place, and remained 
there and listened. How could I help listening? Mamma 
was speaking to somebody, and the sounds of her voice 
were so sweet and so charming. Those sounds alone 
spoke so eloquently to my heart! With eyes dimmed by 
sleepiness I looked fixedly at her face, and suddenly she 
grew so small, so very small,— her face was not larger 
than a button, but I saw it just as plainly. I saw her 
looking at me and smiling. I liked to see her so tiny. I 
blinked my eyes even more, and she became not larger 
than those little men one sees in the pupil of the eye. I 
moved, and the whole charm was broken. I squinted, 
turned around, and in every manner possible tried to re- 
new it, —it was all in vain. 

I rose, sceampered away, and comfortably lodged myself 
in an armchair. 

“ You will fall asleep again, Nikélenka!” said mamma: 
“you had better go up-stairs.” 

“TI do not want to sleep, mamma,” I answered her, and 

60 


CHILDHOOD 61 


indistinct, though sweet, dreams filled my imagination. A 
healthy childish sleep closed my eyelids, and a few min- 
utes later I lost consciousness and slept until I was awak- 
ened. In my waking moments I felt somebody’s hand 
touching me: by the touch alone I could tell her, even 
in my sleep, and I involuntarily caught that hand and 
pressed it hard, very hard to my lips. 

Everybody had left; one candle was burning in the 
sitting-room ; mamma had said that she would wake me 
herself. It was she who seated herself on the chair upon 
which I was asleep, and with her lovely, tender hand 
patted my hair. Over my ear was heard the familiar 
voice : 

“Get up, my darling, it is time to go to bed.” 

No indifferent looks embarrassed her: she was not 
afraid to pour out all her tenderness and love on me. I 
did not stir, but kissed her hand even harder. 

“ Do get up, my angel!” 

She touched my neck with her other hand, and her 
soft fingers moved about and tickled me. It was quiet 
and half-dark in the room; my nerves were aroused by 
the tickling and by the waking. Mamma was sitting 
close to me; she touched me; I scented her odour, and 
heard her voice. All that caused me to leap up, to em- 
brace her neck with both my hands, to press my head to 
her breast, and, breathing heavily, to say : 

“Oh, my dear, dear mother, how I love you!” 

She smiled a sad, bewitching smile, took my head into 
both her hands, kissed my brow, and placed me upon her 
knees. 

“So you love me very much?” She was silent for a 
moment, then she said: “Remember, you must always 
love me; you must never forget me! You will not for- 
get your mamma when she is no more? You will not, 
Nikédlenka ?” 

She kissed me more tenderly yet. 


62 CHILDHOOD 


“ Stop, don’t say that, my darling, my sweetheart!” I 
called out, kissing her knees, and tears ran in streams 
from my eyes, — tears of love and ecstasy. 

When, after such a scene, I came up-stairs and stood 
in my wadded cloak before the holy images, what a won- 
derful feeling I experienced at the words, “ Preserve, O 
Lord, father and mother!” When, in such moments, I 
repeated the prayers which my childish lips for the first 
time lisped after my beloved mother, my love for her and 
my love for God were strangely mingled in one feeling. 

After the prayer I rolled myself into my coverlet, and 
my heart felt light and cheerful. One dream chased 
another, — but what were they about? They were in- 
tangible, but filled with pure love and hope for bright 
happiness. I thought of Karl Ivanovich and his bitter 
fate, — of the only man whom I knew to be unhappy, and 
I felt so sorry for him, and so loved him, that the tears 
gushed from my eyes, and I thought: God grant him hap- 
piness, and me an opportunity of helping him, and allevi- 
ating his sorrow; I was ready to sacrifice everything for 
him. Then I stuck my favourite china toy, —a hare or 
a dog, — into the corner of the down pillow, and I was 
happy seeing how comfortable and snug the toy was 
there. I also prayed the Lord that He would give happi- 
ness to everybody, and that all should be satisfied, and 
that to-morrow should be good weather for the outing, 
and then I turned on my other side, my thoughts and 
dreams became mixed and disturbed, and I fell softly, 
quietly asleep, my face wet with tears. 

Will that freshness, carelessness, need of love, and 
strength of faith, which one possesses in childhood, ever 
return? What time can be better than that when all the 
best virtues, — innocent merriment and limitless need of 
love, — are the only incitements in life ? 

Where are all those ardent prayers, where is the best 
gift — those tears of contrition? The consoling angel 


CHILDHOOD 63 


came on his pinions, with a smile wiped off those tears, 
and fanned sweet dreams to the uncorrupted imagination 
of the child. 

Is it possible life has left such heavy traces in my 
heart that these tears and that ecstasy have for ever gone 
from me? Is it possible, nothing but memories are left ? 


XVI. 
POETRY 


ALMOST a month after we had settled in Moscow, 
I was sitting at a large table up-stairs, in grandmother’s 
house, and writing. Our teacher of drawing sat opposite 
me, and gave a final touch to the head of a turbaned 
Turk, drawn with a black crayon. Volddya, standing be- 
hind the teacher, craned his neck and looked over his 
shoulder. This head was Volddya’s first production in 
black crayon, and it was that very day to be presented to 
grandmother, it being her name day. 

“And won’t you throw some shadows here?” said 
Volédya to the teacher, rising on tiptoes, and pointing to 
the Turk’s neck. 

“ No, it is not necessary,” said the teacher, putting away 
the crayons and the drawing-pen in a box with a sliding 
lid. “It is all right this way, and don’t touch it again. 
Well, and you, Nikdlenka,” he added, rising, and still 
looking sidewise at the Turk, “tell us, at last, your secret ; 
what are you going to offer to grandmother? Really, it 
would be well if you, too, gave her a head. Good-bye, 
young gentlemen!” He took his hat and a ticket, and 
went out. 

That moment I thought myself that a head would be bet- 
ter than what I was working on. When we were told that 
grandmother’s name day would come soon, and that we 
ought to prepare some presents for that day, it occurred tome 


to write verses for the occasion, and I immediately picked 
64 











woo20oM .s1sup2 Iuiitused sAT 


Sossol ys gays eu we, swwsicegolo fk, 


XVL 
PORTRY 


ALMOsT a inonth after we had settled in Moscow, 
1 was sitting at « large a ip-ttairs, in graodniother’s 
‘use, and writiny ‘fur teacher of drawing sst opposite 
me and yay ra sch co the head of a turbaned 
Tork ‘raw: m ven Valédya, sanding be- 
Vee de hes nek and looked over his 


shes --lye'a first production in 

i Ge ery day to be presented to 
arr : af ay 

shadows here?” said 

eter  wptess, and pointing to 


he soauher, putting away 
‘4 a how with a aiding 
od don't topch a sagem. 
widen! rising, ancl «itl 
Tous ut last. your secret; 
wrand mother Really, it 
har. hea Good-bye, 


Pre - hat and a ticket, and 
PN eae ay i "t (hat @& head would be bet- 
ipabih Wem Beet | ' When we were told that 

‘la owe, come goon, and that wea 
one tavcculs for thetday,it occurred to me 


si { f simediately picked 





The Beautiful Square, Moscow 
Photogravure from Engraving by Lavrdv 





as eS 
ay a4 car 43 
Leena NG 





POETRY 65 


out two lines with a rhyme, and hoped shortly to find 
the rest. I absolutely cannot remember how such a 
strange idea, for a child, could have got into my head, 
but I recall that it gave me pleasure, and that to all ques- 
tions about the matter, I answered that I should not fail 
to offer grandmother a present, but that I should not tell 
anybody what it was. 

Contrary to my expectation, it soon appeared that, in 
spite of all my efforts, I was not able to find any other 
verses except the two lines which I had made up on the 
spur of the moment. I began to read the poems that 
were in our readers, but neither Dmitriev, nor Derzhavin 
helped me at all! On the contrary, they only convinced 
me of my incapacity. As I knew that Karl Ivdnovich 
was fond of copying poems, I began quietly to rum- 
mage through his papers, and among his German poems 
found one Russian lyric, which, no doubt, belonged to his 
own pen. 


To Madam L. . . Petrovski, 1828, 3 juni. 
Remember me near, 
Remember me far, 
Remember my 
Even from now up to ever, 
Remember me to my grave, 
How faithful I can love. 
— Karl Mauer. 


This poem, written in a beautiful, round hand, on thin 
letter-paper, took my fancy on account of the stirring 
feeling which pervaded it. I immediately learned it by 
rote, and decided to take it for my model. Things now 
went much easier. On the name day my greeting, con- 
sisting of twelve lines, was ready, and, seating myself at 
the table in the class-room, I copied it on vellum paper. 

Two sheets of paper were already spoiled, — not that I 
wished to change something, the verses seemed perfect to 


66 CHILDHOOD 


me, but beginning with the third line, the ends of the 
verses began to turn upwards more and more, so that one 
could see, even from a distance, that they were written 
crooked, and that they were not good for anything. 

The third sheet was just as crooked as the other two, 
but I decided not to copy it again. In my poem I con- 
gratulated grandmother, and wished her to live long, and 
finished as follows: 


We will try never to bother, 
And wiil love you like our own mother. 


It did not look so bad, after all, only the last verse 
strangely offended my ear. 

“ And will love you like our own mother,” mumbled I. 
“What other rhyme could I get for mother? other? 
smother? Oh, well, it will pass anyway; it is not worse 
than the verses of Karl Ivanovich.” 

I wrote down the last verse. Then I read aloud my 
production, with feeling and expression, in the sleeping- 
room. There were lines without any measure, and that 
did not disconcert me; but the last verse struck me more 
unpleasantly still. I sat down on my bed, and fell to 
musing. 

“Why did I write like our own mother? She was 
not here, so I ought not even to have mentioned her. It 
is true, I love grandmother, and I respect her, but still, 
it is not the same— why did I write that, why did I 
lie? To be sure this was a poem, still I ought not to 
have done so.” 

Just then the tailor entered, and brought the new half- 
frock coats. 

“Well, it will have to remain that way!” said I, in 
great impatience, as I angrily shoved the poem under the 
pillow, and ran away to try on the Moscow clothes. 

The Moscow clothes turned out to be a fine affair: the 


POETRY 67 


cinnamon-coloured half-frocks, with their brass buttons, 
were closely fitting, — not as they used to make them in 
the country for us, by sizes; the black trousers, tightly 
fitting, too, wonderfully showed the muscles, and hung 
over the boots. 

“At last I myself have pantaloons with foot straps, 
and real ones!” I thought and, beside myself with 
pleasure, examined my legs on all sides. Although the 
trousers were dreadfully tight, and I felt uncomfortable 
in my new suit, I did not mention it to anybody, but, on 
the contrary, said that I felt quite at ease, and, if there 
was any fault in the suit, it was, that it was too loose. 
After that I stood for a long time before the looking- 
glass, combing my copiously waxed hair. No matter 
how much I tried, I could not smooth down the tufts on 
my crown: the moment I wanted to experiment on their 
docility, and stopped pressing them down with the brush, 
they rose and towered in all directions, giving my face an 
exceedingly funny expression. 

Karl Ivénovich was dressing in the next room, and 
they carried through the class-room a blue dress coat to 
him, and with it some white appurtenances. At the door 
that led down-stairs was heard the voice of one of grand- 
mother’s chambermaids: I went out to discover what she 
wanted. She was holding in her hand a stiffly ironed 
shirt-front, and told me that she had brought it for Karl 
Ivénovich, and that she had not slept that night, in order 
to get it washed in time. I undertook to hand him the 
shirt-front, and asked whether grandmother had risen. 

“Indeed, sir! She has already had her coffee, and the 
protopope has come. How fine you look!” she added, 
smiling, and surveying my new garments. 

This remark made me blush. I turned around on one 
foot, clicked my fingers, and leaped up, to let her feel 
that she did not know yet what a fine fellow I really 
was. 


68 CHILDHOOD 


When I brought the shirt-front to Karl Ivdnovich, he 
did not need it any longer: he had put on another, and, 
bending over a small looking-glass, which stood on a 
table, was holding the superb tie of his cravat in his 
hands, and trying whether his smoothly shaven chin 
would freely go into it and come out again. Having 
pulled our garments into shape, and having asked Nikolay 
to do the same for him, he took us to grandmother. I 
have to laugh when I think how strongly all three of us 
smelled of pomatum, as we descended the staircase. 

Karl Ivanovich had in his hands a small box of his 
own make; Voldédya had the drawing, and I the poem. 
We all had on our tongue a greeting with which we were 
to offer our presents. Just as Karl Ivanovich opened the 
door of the parlour, the clergyman was putting on his 
vestments, and the first sounds of the mass were heard. 

Grandmother was in the parlour already: bending and 
leaning over the arm of a chair, she was standing at the 
wall and praying fervently. Papa stood near her. She 
turned around to us and smiled, when she noticed that 
we were hiding behind our backs the presents which we 
were to offer, and that we had stopped at the door, in our 
desire not to observed. All the effect of surprise, on 
which we had been counting, was lost. 

When the blessing with the cross began, I suddenly 
felt that I was under the oppressive influence of an incon- 
querable, stupefying timidity, and, feeling that I should 
never have enough courage to make my offering to her, 
I hid behind Karl Ivdnovich’s back. He congratulated 
grandmother in the choicest of expressions, and, trans- 
ferring the box from his right hand to his left, handed it 
to her, and walked off a few steps, in order to give Volédya 
a chance. Grandmother, so it seemed, was delighted with 
the box, which was bordered with gold paper, and ex- 
pressed her thanks to him with a most gracious smile. 
It was, however, evident that she did not know where to 


POETRY 69 


place the box, and, probably for that reason, asked papa 
to see with what remarkable skill it was made. 

Having satisfied his curiosity, papa handed it to the 
protopope who, it seemed, took a liking to the thing: he 
shook his head, and now looked at the box, and now at 
the master who had managed to produce such a beautiful 
object. Volddya offered his Turk, and he also was the 
recipient of the most flattering praise on all sides. Then 
came my turn: grandmother turned to me with a smile 
of encouragement. 

Those who have experienced bashfulness, know that 
the feeling increases in direct proportion with time, and 
that decision diminishes in the same proportion ; that is, 
the longer that condition lasts, the harder it is to over- 
come the bashfulness, and the less there is left of decision. 

My last courage and decision left me when Karl Ivdano- 
vich and Voléddya made their offerings, and my bashful- 
ness reached its extreme limits: I felt my heart-blood 
continually coursing to my head, my face alternately 
changing colour, and large drops of perspiration oozing on 
my forehead and nose. My ears were burning; I felt a 
chill and a perspiration over my whole body ; I stood now 
on one foot, now on another, and I did not budge from 
the spot. 

“Well, do show us, Nikédlenka! What is it you have, 
a box or a drawing?” said papa to me. There was noth- 
ing to be done; with a trembling hand I gave her the 
crushed, fatal roll; but my voice refused to serve me, and 
I stopped silent before grandmother. I was beside myself, 
thinking that, instead of the expected drawing, they would 
read aloud my worthless poem and the words like my 
own mother which would be a clear proof that I had 
never loved her, and that I had forgotten her. How am 
I to tell the agony through which I passed, when grand- 
mother began to read aloud my poem; when, unable to 
make it out, she stopped in the middle of the verse, in 


70 CHILDHOOD 


order to look at papa with a smile, which then seemed to 
me to be one of mockery ; when she pronounced it differ- 
ently from what I had intended it; and when, her eyes 
being weak, she did not finish reading it, but handed it 
to papa and asked him to read it from the beginning? It 
seemed to me that she did so because she was tired of 
reading such horrible and badly scrawled verses, and be- 
cause she wanted papa to read the last line, which was 
such an evident proof of my heartlessness. I was waiting 
for him to snap my nose with the poem, and to say: 
“Naughty boy! Do not forget your mother! Take this 
for it!” But nothing of the kind happened; on the con- 
trary, after it had been read, grandmother said: “ Char- 
mant !” and kissed my brow. 

The box, the drawing, and the poem were put, by the 
side of two batiste handkerchiefs and a snuff-box with 
mamma's portrait, on a sort of extension table connected 
with the armchair in which grandmother always sat. 

“Princess Varvara Ilinichna,” announced one of the 
two huge lackeys who stood in the back of grandmother’s 
carriage. 

Grandmother was deep in thought over the portrait, 
which was fastened to the shell snuff-box, and did not 
answer. 

“Does your Grace command to ask her in?” repeated 
the lackey. 


me LL 
PRINCESS KORNAKOV 


« Ask her in,” said grandmother, seating herself deeper 
in the chair. 

The princess was a woman about forty-five years of 
age, small of stature, sickly, lean, and bilious, with grayish 
green, disagreeable little eyes, the expression of which 
clearly contradicted the unnaturally sweet curves of her 
mouth. Underneath a velvet hat with an ostrich feather 
could be seen her bright red hair; her eyebrows and eye- 
lashes appeared even brighter and redder on the sickly 
colour of her face. In spite of all this, she gave a gen- 
eral impression of generosity and energy, thanks to her 
unaffected movements, her tiny hands, and the peculiar 
leanness of all her features. 

The princess talked a great deal, and by reason of her 
talkativeness belonged to that class of people who are 
always speaking as though some one were contradicting 
them, although not a word is said. She now raised her 
voice, now gradually lowered it in order to burst forth 
with new vivacity, and glanced at her silent listeners, as 
if trying to strengthen herself by that glance. 

Though the princess had kissed grandmother’s hand, 
and continually called her ma bonne tante, I noticed that 
grandmother was not satisfied with her; she raised her 
brows in a peculiar manner, as she listened to the reason 
why Prince Mikhaylo was absolutely unable to come to 
congratulate grandmother, though he wished very much 

71 


12 CHILDHOOD 


to do so, and, answering in Russian to the French speech 
of the princess, she said, dwelling with emphasis on her 
words: 

“T thank you very much, my dear, for your attention, 
but as to Prince Mikhdylo not being able to come, what 
is the use mentioning it? He has always a great deal to 
do. And what pleasure could it be for him to sit down 
with an old woman ?” 

And, not giving the princess a chance to contradict 
her words, she continued : 

“ Tell me, how are your children, my dear ?” 

“The Lord be praised, ma tante, they are growing, 
studying, and having a good time— especially Etienne, 
the eldest, is getting to be so mischievous that there is 
no getting on with him; but he is bright, wn gargon 
qui promet. Just imagine, mon cousin,’ she continued, 
turning exclusively to papa, because grandmother, who 
was not in the least interested in the children of the 
princess, but wanted to praise her own grandchildren, 
carefully took my poem from under the box, and began 
to unfold the paper: “Just imagine, mon cousin, what 
he did a few days ago —” 

The princess leaned over to papa, and began to tell 
him something with great animation. Having finished 
her story, which I did not hear, she burst out laughing 
and, looking interrogatively at papa, said: 

“What do you think of that boy, mon cousin? He 
deserved a whipping; but that trick of his was so bright 
and amusing, that I forgave him, mon cousin.” 

And the princess fixed her eyes upon grandmother, 
and continued to smile, without saying anything. 

“Do you beat your children, my dear?” asked grand- 
mother, significantly raising her eyebrows, and emphasi- 
zing the word beat. 

“Oh, ma bonne tante,’ answered the princess in a kind 
voice, casting a rapid glance upon papa, “I know your 


PRINCESS KORNAKOV Ve 


opinion in regard to this matter, but permit me to dis- 
agree with you in this only: however much I have 
thought, or read, or consulted about the question, my ex- 
perience has brought me to the conviction that it is nec- 
essary to act upon children through fear. To make 
anything of a child, you need fear —am I not right, mon 
cousin 2? And what is it, ye vous demande un peu, chil- 
dren fear more than the rod ?” 

Saying this, she looked interrogatively at us, and, I 
must confess, I felt very ill at ease during that moment. 

“Say what you may, a boy up to twelve and even 
fourteen years of age is a child. With girls it is a differ- 
ent matter.” 

“Yes, that is very nice, my dear,” said grandmother, 
folding my poem and replacing it under the box, as if 
she did not regard the princess, after these words, worthy 
of hearing such a production. “That is very nice, only, 
please, tell me, what refined feelings can you after that 
expect of your children ?” 

And, regarding this argument as incontrovertible, grand- 
mother added, in order to break off the conversation : 

« However, everybody has his own opinion upon that 
matter.” 

The princess did not answer, and only smiled conde- 
scendingly, wishing thus to say that she forgave this 
queer prejudice in a person whom she respected so much. 

«Ah, introduce me to your young people,” said she, 
looking at us and smiling politely. 

We rose, and, fixing our eyes upon the face of the 
princess, did not know in the least what to do in order 
to prove that we had become acquainted. 

“ Kiss the hand of the princess,” said papa. 

“T ask you to love your old aunt,” said she, kissing 
Volédya’s hair. “Though I am but distantly related to 
you, I count not by degrees of relationship, but by ties of 
friendship,” she added, speaking more especially to grand- 


74 CHILDHOOD 


mother, but grandmother was still dissatisfied with her, 
and said: 

«Ah, my dear, do we nowadays count such relation- 
ship?” 

“This one will be a worldly young man,” said papa, 
pointing to Volédya, “and this one a poet,” he added, 
while I was kissing the small dry hand of the princess, 
and with extraordinary distinctness imagined a switch in 
that hand, and under the switch a bench, and so forth. 

«Which one?” asked the princess, keeping hold of my 
hand. 

“This one, the little fellow with the locks,” answered 
papa, smiling merrily. 

“ What have my locks done to him? Has he nothing 
else to talk about?” thought I, and went into the corner. 

I had the oddest conceptions of beauty,—I even 
regarded Karl Ivanovich as the first beau in the world; 
but I knew full well that I was not good-looking, and in 
this opinion was not mistaken. Therefore, every reference 
to my looks was offensive to me. 

I remember very well how once at dinner, — I was then 
six years old, —they were speaking of my exterior, and 
mamma was trying to find something comely in my face. 
She said that I had bright eyes and a pleasant smile, and, 
finally, yielding to father’s proofs and to evidence, was 
compelled to admit that I was homely.. Later, when I 
thanked her for the dinner, she patted my cheek, and 
said : 

“ Know this much, Nikdélenka, no one will love you for 
your face, so you must try and be a good and clever boy.” 

These words not only convinced me that I was not 
handsome, but also that I must try by all means to be a 
good and clever boy. 

In spite of this, moments of despair frequently came 
over me. I imagined that there was no happiness in the 
world for a man with such a broad nose, fat lips, and 


PRINCESS KORNAKOV 75 


small gray eyes, as mine were. I asked God to do a 
miracle, and to change me into a handsome boy, and 
everything I then had, and everything I should ever have 
in the future, I would gladly have given for a pretty face. 


XVIII. 
PRINCE IVAN IVANOVICH 


WHEN the princess had listened to the poem and had 
showered praises on the author, grandmother softened, 
began to speak in French with her, stopped calling her 
“you, my dear,” and invited her to visit us in the evening 
with all her children. The princess promised she would, 
and, after staying awhile, departed. 

There came so many guests that day to congratulate 
grandmother that in the courtyard, near the entrance, 
there were always several carriages standing, the whole 
morning. 

“ Bonjour, chére cousine,” said one of the guests as he 
entered the room and kissed grandmother’s hand. 

He was a man of some seventy years of age, of tall 
stature, in a military uniform, with large epaulets, below 
the collar of which could be seen a large white cross, and 
with a calm, open countenance. I was struck by the 
freedom and simplicity of his movements. Although 
there was left but a small circle of scanty hair on the 
back of his head, and although the position of the upper 
lip gave clear evidence of the absence of teeth, his face 
was still one of remarkable beauty. 

Prince Ivén Ivanovich had, while still very young, 
made a brilliant career at the end of the last century, 
thanks to his noble character, fine looks, remarkable 


bravery, distinguished and powerful connections, and, 
76 


PRINCE IVAN IVANOVICH ae 


especially, luck. He remained in the service, and his 
ambition was soon so well satisfied, that there was 
nothing more for him to wish in that respect. He had 
carried himself from his very youth as if he had been 
preparing himself to occupy that illustrious place in the 
world where fate had later put him. Therefore, although 
in his brilliant and somewhat vain life, as in all other 
lives, there were annoyances, disappointments and failures, 
he not even once was false to his ever calm character, nor 
to his high ideals, nor to the fundamental tenets of relig- 
ion and morality, and he earned universal respect not 
only on the basis of his high position, but on the basis 
also of his consistency and fortitude. 

He was a man of mediocre mind, but, thanks to his 
position, which permitted him to look with disdain at all 
the vain tribulations of life, his ideals were of an elevated 
character. He was good and sympathetic, but somewhat 
cold and haughty in manner. That came from his being 
placed in a position where he could be useful to many, so 
that by his coldness he endeavoured to guard himself 
against the unrelenting prayers and requests of people 
who wished to make use of his influence. His coldness, 
however, was softened by the condescending civility of a 
man of the great world. He was well educated and well 
read ; but his education stopped at what he had acquired 
in youth, that is, at the end of the last century. He had 
read everything worth while that had been written in 
France during the eighteenth century in the field of phi- 
losophy and eloquence, knew thoroughly all the best pro- 
ductions of French literature, so that he could and did 
with pleasure quote passages from Racine, Corneille, 
Boileau, Molitre, Montaigne, Fénelon; he was brilliantly 
versed in mythology, and with benefit had studied, in 
French translations, the ancient monuments of epic 
poetry; he had a fair knowledge of history, which he 
drew from Ségur; but he did not have the least concep- 


78 CHILDHOOD 


tion of mathematics, beyond arithmetic, nor of physics, 
nor of contemporaneous literature; he could in a conver- 
sation politely suppress, or even express, a few common- 
places about Goethe, Schiller, and Byron, but he never 
had read them. 

In spite of this French classical education, of which 
there are but few examples left now, his conversation was 
simple, and this simplicity at the same time hid his igno- 
rance of certain things, and also gave evidence of his 
agreeable manner and indulgence. He wasa great enemy 
of all originality, maintaining that originality was a trick 
of people in bad society. Society was a matter of neces- 
sity to him, wherever he happened to be; whether in 
Moscow, or abroad, he always lived in the same open 
fashion, and upon certain days received the whole city at 
his house. The prince was on such a footing in the city, 
that an invitation from him could serve as a passport into 
all the parlours, that many young and beautiful women 
gladly offered him their rosy cheeks, which he kissed, as 
it were, with the feeling of a father, and that apparently 
distinguished and decent people expressed indescribable 
joy when they were admitted to his receptions. 

There were but few people left to the prince, like grand- 
mother, who were of the same circle, the same bringing 
up, the same point of view, and the same age with him, so 
he particularly valued his old friendship with her, and 
always showed her great respect. 

I did not get tired looking at the prince; the respect 
which everybody showed him, the large epaulets, the 
particular joy which grandmother expressed upon seeing 
him, and the fact that he alone, evidently, was not afraid 
of her, conversed with her entirely at his ease, and even 
had the courage to call her “ma cousine,” inspired in me 
a respect for him, equal to, if not greater than, that which 
I felt for my father. When they showed him my poem, 
he called me to him and said: 


PRINCE IVAN IVANOVICH 79 


“Who knows, ma cousine, maybe he will be another 
Derzhavin.” 

Saying this, he gave me a painful pinch in my cheek. 
If I did not cry out loud, it was only because I decided 
to take it as a favour. 

The guests departed, papa and Volédya went out; in 
the drawing-room were left the prince, grandmother, 
and I. 

“Why did not our dear Natalya Nikol4evna come?” 
suddenly asked Prince Ivén Ivanovich, after a moment’s 
silence. 

« Ah, mon cher !” answered grandmother, lowering her 
voice, and putting her hand on the sleeve of his uniform: 
“She, no doubt, would have come, if she were at liberty 
to do what she pleases. She writes me that Pierre had 
proposed her going, but that she had herself declined 
because, says she, they had had no income this year. She 
writes, ‘ Besides, I have no reason to settle in Moscow 
this year with my whole house. Lytibochka is too young 
yet; and as to the boys, who will be living with you, Iam 
more at ease than if they stayed with me.’ That is all 
very nice!” continued grandmother, in a tone that clearly 
showed she did not find it at all very nice. “The boys 
ought to have been sent here long ago, to learn some- 
thing, and to get used to the world, for what kind of an 
education could they get in the country? The eldest will 
soon be thirteen years, and the other eleven. You have 
noticed, mon cousin, they are here like savages, — they 
do not know how to enter a room.” 

“T can’t, however, understand,” answered the prince, 
“what is the cause of their eternal complaint about 
ruinous conditions? He has some very good property, 
and Natdsha’s Khabdérovka, where you and I, in times 
long gone, used to play theatre, I know like the five 
fingers of my hand; it is a magnificent estate, and ought 
to bring a nice income.” 


80 CHILDHOOD 


“T will tell you as a true friend,” grandmother inter- 
rupted him, with a sad countenance, “it seems to me that 
these are only excuses, so as to give him a chance to live 
here alone, to frequent clubs and dinners, and to do God 
knows what; but she does not suspect anything. You 
know what an angelic soul she is; she has complete con- 
fidence in him. He had assured her that the children 
ought to be taken to Moscow, and that she ought to stay 
all alone, with the stupid governess, in the country, — and 
she believed him. If he were to tell her that the children 
ought to be whipped, as Princess Varvara I]inichna whips 
them, she, I think, would at once consent,” said grand- 
mother, moving about in her chair, with an expression of 
deep disgust. “ Yes, my friend,” continued grandmother, 
after a moment’s silence, and raising one of her two 
handkerchiefs, to wipe off a tear which had made its 
appearance, “I often think that he can neither value nor 
understand her, and that in spite of all her goodness, 
her love for him, and her desire to hide her grief, —I 
know that well,—she cannot be happy with him. Re- 
member what I say, he will —” 

Grandmother covered her face with her handkerchief. 

“Eh, ma bonne amie,” said the prince, chidingly, “I 
see you have not become wiser in the least, — you eter- 
nally worry and weep for an imaginary sorrow. Really, 
are you not ashamed? I have known him for a long 
time, and I have known him as an attentive, good, and 
excellent husband, and, above all, as a very noble man, wn 
parfait honnét homme.” 

Having involuntarily heard the conversation, which 
I ought not to have heard, I slipped out of the room 
on tiptoe, and in great agitation. 


». ab. 
THE IVINS 


“Vo.Lépya! Volédya! The Ivins!” I cried out when 
I saw through the window three boys, in blue frogged 
coats with beaver collars, who, following their young, 
dandyish tutor, were crossing from the other side of the 
street toward our house. 

The Ivins were some relatives of ours, and almost of 
the same age with us. Soon after our arrival in Moscow 
we became acquainted and friendly. 

The second Ivin, Serézha, was a swarthy, curly-headed 
boy, with an upturned, firm nose, very fresh, red lips, 
which rarely were entirely closed, a somewhat prominent 
upper row of white teeth, beautiful, dark blue eyes, and 
an unusually lively countenance. He never smiled, but 
either looked quite serious, or laughed heartily with a 
melodious, clear-cut, and exceedingly attractive laughter. 
His original beauty struck me from the very start. I felt 
unconquerably attracted by him. It was enough for my 
happiness to see him, and all the powers of my soul were 
concentrated upon this desire. When I passed three or 
four days without seeing him, I grew lonely, and felt sad 
enough to weep. All my dreams, waking and sleeping, 
were of him. When I lay down to sleep, I wished that 
I might dream of him; when I closed my eyes, I saw 
him before me, and I treasured this vision as my greatest 
pleasure. I did not dare entrust this feeling to any one 


in the world, I valued it so. 
81 


82 CHILDHOOD 


Perhaps he was tired of feeling my restless eyes con- 
tinually directed toward him, or he did not feel any 
sympathy for me, but he visibly preferred to play and to 
talk with Volddya, rather than with me. I was, never- 
theless, satisfied, wished for nothing, demanded nothing, 
and was ready to sacrifice everything for him. 

In addition to the passionate attraction with which he 
inspired me, his presence provoked in me, in no less 
degree, another feeling, —a fear of offending him, or in 
any way grieving him, and not pleasing him; perhaps, 
because his face bore a haughty expression, or because, 
disdaining my own looks, I too much valued the advan- 
tages of beauty in others, or, what is more likely, since it 
is a decided sign of love, I was as much in fear of him 
as I loved him. When Serézha spoke to me for the first 
time, I so completely lost myself from such unexpected 
happiness, that I grew pale, and blushed, and did not 
know what to answer him. He had a bad habit, when 
he was thinking of something, of resting his eyes on one 
object, blinking all the time, and twitching his nose and 
eyebrows. Everybody found that this habit spoiled his 
face, but I thought it so charming that I came to do 
the same, and a few days after my acquaintance with 
him, grandmother asked me whether my eyes were not 
hurting me, for I was jerking them like an owl. Not a 
word was ever said between us in regard to our love, but 
he felt his power over me, and tyrannically, though un- 
consciously, made use of it in our childish relations. How- 
ever much I wished to tell him what there was upon my 
soul, I was too much afraid of him to attempt confidences, 
and tried to appear indifferent, and without murmuring 
submitted to him. At times his influence seemed hard and 
intolerable to me, but it was not in my power to escape it. 

It is sad to recall that refreshing, beautiful feeling of 
unselfish and limitless love, which died without ebullition 
and without finding any response. 


THE {VINS 83 


It is strange that, when I was a child, I always wanted 
to be big, and now, since I have ceased being small, I 
frequently wish I were. How often this desire, not to 
be like a child, had, in my relations to Serézha, arrested 
the feeling which was ready to pour forth, and caused me 
to simulate. I not only did not dare to kiss him, which 
I frequently wanted to do, to take his hand, to say how 
glad I was to see him, but did not even dare to call him 
Serézha, but only Sergyéy: such was the relation estab- 
lished between us. Every expression of sentiment was a 
proof of childishness, and he who permitted himself such 
a thing was still a boy. Although we had not yet passed 
those bitter experiences which lead grown people to be 
cautious and cold in their relations with each other, we 
deprived ourselves of the pure enjoyment of a tender, 
childlike attachment, through the one strange desire to 
imitate grown people. 

I met the Ivins in the antechamber, greeted them, and 
flew headlong to grandmother; I announced to her that 
the Ivins had come, with an expression as if this news 
ought to make her completely happy. Then, without 
taking my eyes off Serézha, I followed him into the draw- 
ing-room and watched all his movements. While grand- 
mother said that he had grown much, and directed her 
penetrating eyes upon him, I experienced that feeling of 
terror and hope which the artist must experience when 
he is waiting for the respected judge to pass a sentence 
upon his production. 

The young tutor of the Ivins, Herr Frost, went, with 
grandmother’s permission, down into the garden with us, 
seated himself on a green bench, picturesquely crossed his 
legs, placing between them his cane with a brass knob, 
and, with the expression of a man who is satisfied with 
his actions, lighted a cigar. 

Herr Frost was a German, but of an entirely different 
type from our good Karl Ivdénovich. In the first place he 


84 CHILDHOOD 


spoke Russian correctly, and French with a bad pronun- 
ciation, and enjoyed, particularly among ladies, the repu- 
tation of being a very learned gentleman; in the second, 
he wore red moustaches, a large ruby pin in a black satin 
cravat, the ends of which were tucked under his sus- 
penders, and light blue pantaloons with changing hues and 
with foot-straps; in the third, he was young, had a beau- 
tiful, self-satisfied expression, and unusually well-de- 
veloped, muscular legs. It was evident he very much 
treasured this advantage; he regarded the effect as irre- 
sistible on persons of the feminine sex and, no doubt for 
this reason, tried to place his legs in a most noticeable 
position, and, whether he was standing or sitting, contin- 
ually moved his thighs. It was the type of a young 
Russian German, who wished to be a beau and a Love- 
lace. 

We had a merry time in the garden. The game of 
robbers went on as nicely as possible; but an incident 
came very near putting a stop to it. Serézha was the 
robber. In running after the travellers, he tripped, and in 
full career struck his knee against a tree with such force 
that I thought he would break to splinters. Although I 
was the rural police, and my duty consisted in catching 
him, I went up to him sympathetically, and asked him 
whether he had hurt himself very painfully. Serézha was 
furious, he clenched his fists, stamped his feet, and, in a 
voice which showed conclusively that he had hurt himself 
very much, cried out to me: 

“What is that? After this, there is no game! Well, 
why do you not catch me, why do you not catch me?” he 
repeated several times, looking away at Voldédya and the 
elder Ivin, who represented the travellers and leaped up 
and down the path; then he suddenly shouted and with 
loud laughter rushed forward to catch them. 

I can’t tell how that heroic act struck and captivated 
me. In spite of his terrible pain, he not only did not 


THE fVINS 85 


weep, but he did not even show that he had been hurt, 
and did not for a minute forget the game. 

Soon after that, when Ilinka Grap joined our company 
and we went up-stairs before dinner, Serézha had occasion 
to captivate me even more and to impress me with his 
remarkable manliness and fortitude of character. 

Ilinka Grap was the son of a poor foreigner, who had 
once lived at my grandfather’s. He was in some way 
under obligations to him, and for some reason regarded it 
as his duty to send his son to us as often as possible. If 
he thought that our acquaintance would afford his son 
any honour or pleasure, he was in this respect completely 
mistaken, because we not only were not friendly with 
Ilinka, but turned our attention to him only when we 
wanted to make fun of him. ITlinka was a boy of about 
thirteen years of age, thin, tall, pale, with a birdlike face, 
and a good-natured, submissive expression. He was 
dressed very poorly, but was always so copiously covered 
with pomatum that we used to assert that on a warm day 
the pomatum melted on Grap’s head and ran under his 
blouse. When I think of him now, I find that he was a 
very obliging, quiet, and good boy; but then he appeared 
to me such a contemptible being that it was not worth 
while to pity him or even to think of him. 

When the game of robbers stopped, we went up-stairs, 
and began to show off and to brag before each other with 
all kinds of gymnastic tricks. Ilinka looked at us with a 
timid smile of wonderment, and when it was proposed 
that he should do likewise, he declined, saying that he 
did not have any strength. Serézha was wonderful; he 
took off his blouse; his face and eyes were red, for 
he continually laughed and tried new tricks: he jumped 
over three chairs placed in a row, turned somersaults 
through the whole length of the room, stood on his head 
on Tatischev’s dictionaries, which he had placed in the 
middle of the room in the shape of a pedestal, and did 


86 CHILDHOOD 


such funny tricks with his feet that it was impossible to 
keep from laughing. After this last peformance, he 
thought for a moment, winked, and suddenly went up to 
Ilinka with a very serious expression in his face: “Try 
that; really it is not hard.” Noticing that the eyes of all 
were directed upon him, Grap blushed and with a scarcely 
audible voice assured us that he was in no way capable 
of doing it. 

« Now, really, why does he not want to doit? Is hea 
girl? What? He must, by all means, stand on his 
head !” 

And Serézha took his hand. . 

« By all means, by all means on his head!” we all 
cried, and surrounded Ilinka, who was perceptibly fright- 
ened and pale. We took his hands and pulled him to the 
dictionaries. 

“Let me, Pl doit alone! You will tear my blouse!” 
cried the unfortunate victim. But these cries of despair 
only encouraged us more. We were dying with laughter, 
and the green blouse cracked in all its seams. 

Volddya and the elder Ivin bent down his head and 
placed it on the dictionaries. Serézha and I got hold of 
the poor boy’s thin legs, which he waved in all directions, 
rolled up his pantaloons to his knees, and with loud 
laughter stretched his legs in the air. The younger Ivin 
sustained the equilibrium of his body. 

It so happened that after the noisy laughter we all sud- 
denly grew silent, and it was so quiet in the room that we 
could hear the heavy breathing of poor Grap. That mo- 
ment I was not entirely convinced that all this was funny 
and jolly. 

« Now he is a fine fellow!” said Serézha, slapping him 
with his hand. ; 

Ilinka was silent, and in trying to free himself, threw 
his legs in all directions. During one of these desperate 
movements, his heel struck Serézha’s eye so painfully that 


THE IVINS 87 


Serézha at once dropped his legs, put his hand to his eye, 
from which tears began to flow against his will, and gave 
Tinka a blow with all his might. Tinka was no longer 
supported by us, and fell to the floor like a lifeless mass. 
He could only say through tears: 

“Why do you torment me so ?” 

The pitiful figure of poor Ilinka, with his tearful face, 
dishevelled hair, and tucked-up pantaloons, underneath 
which could be seen the unblackened boot-legs, struck us 
forcibly ; we were all silent and endeavoured to smile. 

Serézha was the first to come to his senses. 

“ He is an old woman, and a cry baby,” he said, lightly 
touching him with his foot. “ It is impossible to play with 
him. Now, that will do, get up.” 

“T told you you were a naughty boy,” angrily cried 
Ilinka, and, turning away, sobbed out loud. 

« Oh, he strikes with his heels, and then he calls names !” 
cried Serézha, taking a dictionary in his hands and swing- 
ing it over the head of the unfortunate boy, who did not 
even think of defending himself, but covered his head with 
his hands. 

“Take this, and this! Let us leave him, if he does 
not know what jokes are. Let us go down-stairs,” said 
Serézha, laughing in an unnatural manner. 

I looked sympathetically at the poor fellow, who lay 
upon the floor, and, hiding his face in a dictionary, wept 
so much that I thought he would certainly die of the con- 
vulsions with which his body was shaking. 

“O Sergyéy!” said I to him, “ why did you do that?” 

“T declare! I did not cry, I hope, when I almost 
crushed my leg to the bone!” 

«Yes, that is so,” thought I, “Ilinka is nothing but a 
cry baby, and Serézha is a brave fellow. Oh, what a 
brave fellow!” 

It did not occur to me that the poor boy was really not 
crying so much from physical pain as from the thought 


88 CHILDHOOD 


that five boys, whom he, no doubt, liked, had without any 
reason conspired to hate and persecute him. 

I positively am not able to explain the cruelty of my 
act. How is it I did not go up to him, did not defend, 
or console him? What had become of the sentiment of 
compassion which used to make me sob at the sight of a 
young jackdaw thrown out of its nest, or of a pup that 
was to be thrown over the fence, or a chicken that the 
cook-boy took out to kill for the soup? 

Is it possible this beautiful sentiment was choked in 
me through my love for Serézha, and my desire to appear 
before him just such a brave fellow as he was? This 
love and desire to appear brave were no enviable qualities, 
for they produced the only dark spots on the pages of my 
childhood memories. 


XX. 
GUESTS ARE COMING 


To judge from the unusual activity which was notice- 
able in the buffet, from the bright illumination which gave 
a new, festive appearance to the old, familiar objects in 
the drawing-room and parlour, and, more especially, to 
judge from the fact that Prince Ivan Ivanovich had sent his 
music, there was to be a large gathering of people in the 
evening. 

At the noise of each carriage that passed by, I ran to 
the window, put my hands to my temples and to the pane, 
and with impatient curiosity looked into the street. From 
the darkness, which at first hid all the objects outside the 
window, slowly emerged: right opposite, the familiar 
bench with the lamp-post ; diagonally across, a large house, 
with two windows below lighted up; in the middle of the 
street, some Jehu, with two occupants in his vehicle, or 
an empty coach, returning home leisurely. Suddenly a 
carriage drove up to the entrance, and I, quite sure that it 
must be the Ivins, who had promised to arrive early, ran 
down to meet them in the antechamber. Instead of the 
Ivins, appeared, after the liveried arm which had opened 
the door, two ladies, one, tall, in a blue cloak with a sable 
collar, the other, small, all wrapped in a green shawl, 
underneath which could be seen only tiny feet in fur boots. 
Without paying any attention to my presence in the ante- 


chamber, though I had regarded it as my duty to bow to 
89 


90 CHILDHOOD 


them at their arrival, the smaller lady walked up to the 
taller, and stopped in front of her. The tall lady unwound 
the kerchief that completely hid the head of the small 
lady and unbuttoned her cloak. When the liveried lackey 
received these things in his keeping, and had taken off her 
fur boots, there issued from that bundled-up being a beau- 
tiful girl twelve years of age, in a short, open muslin 
dress, white pantalets, and tiny black shoes. Over her 
white neck was a black velvet ribbon, her head was all in 
dark blond curls which so beautifully encased her pretty 
face in front, and her bare neck behind, that I should not 
have believed anybody, not even Karl Ivdnovich, that 
they curled in this way because, ever since morning, they 
had been tied in bits of the Moscow Gazette, and because 
they had been curled with hot curling-irons. It seemed 
to me she was born that way, with her curly head. 

The striking feature of her face was the unusual size 
of her bulging, half-closed eyes, which formed a strange, 
but pleasant contrast with the tiny mouth. Her little 
lips were closed, and her eyes looked so serious that the 
general expression of her face was such that one did not 
expect a smile from it, and, consequently, her smile was 
the more enchanting. 

Trying not to be noticed, I slunk through the door of 
the parlour, and thought it necessary to walk up and 
down, pretending that I was deep in thought, and that I 
did not know that guests had come. When the guests 
reached the middle of the parlour, I, as it were, came to, 
scuffed, and announced to them that grandmother was in 
the sitting-room. Madame Valadkhin, whose face I liked 
very much, especially since I discovered in it a resem- 
blance to the face of her daughter Sdnichka, graciously 
nodded her head to me. 

Grandmother was apparently very glad to see Sénichka, 
called her to her, fixed a lock upon her head, which had 
fallen on her forehead, and, looking fixedly at her, said: 


GUESTS ARE COMING 9] 


“ Quelle charmante enfant!” Sdénichka smiled, blushed, 
and looked so sweet, that I, too, blushed, looking at her. 

“T hope you will not be lonely at my house, dear girl,” 
said grandmother, raising her face by the chin. “I ask 
you to have a good time and dance as much as possible. 
Here are already one lady and two gentlemen” she added, 
speaking to Madame Valdkhin, and touching my hand. 

This way of connecting me with herself was so pleas- 
ing that it made me blush once more. 

As I felt that my bashfulness was increasing, and 
hearing the rumble of an approaching carriage, I thought 
it necessary to withdraw. In the antechamber I found 
Princess Korndékov with a son and an incredible number 
of daughters. Her daughters had all the same looks, 
they all resembled the princess, and they were all homely, 
so that not one of them arrested the attention. After 
doffing their cloaks and boas, they suddenly began to 
speak in thin voices, fluttered about, and laughed at 
something, no doubt because there were so many of 
them. Etienne was a boy of about fifteen years of age, 
tall, flabby, with a washed-out face, sunken, blue-ringed 
eyes, and enormous arms and legs for hisage. He was awk- 
ward, and his voice was uneven and harsh, but he seemed 
to be satisfied with himself, and was just the kind of boy 
I had expected of one who was whipped with switches. 

We stood quite a while facing and examining each 
other, without saying a word. Then we moved up to 
each other and, it seems, were about to kiss, but having 
taken another look at one another, somehow changed 
our minds. When the dresses of all his sisters had 
rustled by us, I asked him, in order to start a conversa- 
tion, whether they had not been crowded in the carriage. 

“T do not know,” he answered, carelessly. “You know, 
I never travel in the carriage, because, the moment I seat 
myself in it, I get a sick headache, and mamma knows 
that. When we go out for the evening, I always take my 


92 CHILDHOOD 


place on the coachman’s box, —it’s jollier,—I can see 
everything, and Filfpp lets me guide the horses, and some- 
times I take the whip, too. And those that drive by some- 
times get it,” he added, with an expressive gesture. “It’s 
nice!” 

“ Your Grace,” said a lackey, who had just entered the 
antechamber, “Filipp wants to know what you have 
deigned to do with the whip ?” 

“How? What? I gave it back to him.” 

“He says you didn’t.” 

“ Well, then I hung it on the lamp-post.” 

« Filipp says that it is not on the lamp-post either, and 
you had better admit that you have lost it, and so Filipp 
will with his own money answer for your jokes,” continued 
the angry lackey, becoming more and more animated. 

The lackey, whose appearance was that of a respectable 
and stern man, evidently took Filfpp’s side with zeal, and 
was determined by all means to clear up the matter. By 
a natural feeling of delicacy, I stepped aside, as if I had not 
noticed anything ; but the lackeys present acted differently, 
they came nearer, and approvingly looked at the old servant. 

“Well, if I lost it, I lost it,” said Etienne, avoiding any 
further explanations. “I'll pay him whatever the whip 
is worth. How funny!” he added, walking up to me, 
and drawing me after him into the drawing-room. 

“No, excuse me, master, what are you going to pay 
with? I know how you pay. You have not paid 
Marya Vldsevna her two dimes these eight months; it 
is now two years you have not payed me, and Pe- 
trisha —” 

“Will you shut up?” cried out the young prince, turn- 
ing pale from anger. “I will tell it all —” 

“T will tell it all, I will tell it all!” said the lackey. 
“Tt is not good, your Grace!” he added with great empha- 
sis, Just as we entered the parlour, and as he was going 
with the cloaks to the clothes-press. 


GUESTS ARE COMING 93 


«That's it! That’s it!” was heard somebody’s approv- 
ing voice in the antechamber behind us. 

Grandmother had the special gift, by applying, with a 
certain tone, and at certain occasions, the plural and sin- 
gular number of the pronoun of the second person, to 
express her opinion of people. Although she used “ thou” 
and “you” in a reversed sense from the commonly ac- 
cepted form, these shades received an entirely different 
meaning in her mouth. When the young prince walked 
up to her, she said a few words to him, calling him “ you,” 
and glanced at him with an expression of such contempt 
that if I had been in his place, I should have gone to 
pieces. But Etienne was, apparently, a boy of a different 
composition: he not only did not pay any attention to 
grandmother’s reception, but not even to her person, and 
bowed to the whole company, with the greatest ease, if 
not very gracefully. 

Sénichka occupied all my attention. I remember how 
I spoke with the greatest pleasure, whenever Voldédya, 
Etienne, and I were conversing in a place in the parlour 
where Sdnichka could be seen, and she could see and 
hear us— Whenever I had occasion to say something 
that, in my opinion, was either funny or clever, I spoke 
louder, and looked at the door that led into the drawing- 
room; but when we went over to another place, where 
we could not be seen or heard, I was silent, and no 
longer found any pleasure in the conversation. 

The drawing-room and the parlour were slowly filling 
up with guests. Among them, as is always the case at 
evening parties for children, were some older ones, who 
would not let slip an opportunity of making merry and 
dancing, as if only to please the lady of the house. 

When the Ivins arrived, the pleasure which I generally 
experienced at meeting Serézha gave way to a strange 
annoyance, because he would see Sdénichka, and would be 
seen by her. 


XXI. 
BEFORE THE MAZURKA 


“Ou, there will be some dancing here, I see,” said 
Serézha, as he left the sitting-room, and took out of his 
pocket a new pair of kid gloves. “I must put on my 
gloves.” 

“What shall Ido? We have no gloves,” thought I, 
“and I must go up-stairs and look for some.” 

Although I rummaged through all the drawers, I 
found in one of them only our travelling mittens, and in 
another one kid glove, which could be of no use whatso- 
ever to me: in the first place, because it was exceedingly 
old and dirty, in the second place, because it was entirely 
too large; and chiefly, because it lacked the middle 
finger, which had, no doubt, been cut off by Karl Ivano- 
vich for some ailing hand. I put the remnant of a glove, 
however, on my hand, and attentively examined that spot 
on the middle finger which is always black with ink. 

“Now, if Natalya Sdvishna were here she certainly 
would find some gloves. I can’t go down-stairs in this 
shape, because when they will ask me why I am not 
dancing, what am I to say? Neither can I remain here, 
because they will just as surely discover my absence. 
What am I to do?” said I, and waved my hands in 
despair. 

“What are you doing here?” said Volédya, who had 
just run in. “Go, engage a lady, it will begin soon.” 


“ Voldédya,” said I to him, showing him my hand with 
94 : 


BEFORE THE MAZURKA 95 


two fingers sticking out of the soiled glove, and speaking 
in a voice which expressed a condition bordering on 
despair, “ Volddya, you did not think of this!” 

“Of what?” he said, impatiently, “Ah! Of the 
gloves,” he added, quite indifferently, as he noticed my 
hand; “that is so, we have none, and we shall have to 
ask grandmother what she has to say about it.” And, 
without reflecting a moment, he ran down-stairs. 

The indifference with which he had referred to a sub- 
ject that had seemed so important to me, calmed me, and 
I hastened into the drawing-room, entirely forgetful of 
the monstrous glove which was drawn over my left 
hand. 

Cautiously approaching grandmothers chair, and 
lightly touching her mantilla, I said in a whisper to 
her: 

“Grandmother, what are we to do? We have no 
gloves!” 

“ What is it, my dear ?” 

«We have no gloves,” I repeated, coming nearer and 
nearer, and placing both my hands on the arm of the 
chair. 

“What is this?” she said, seizing my left hand. 
« Voyez, ma chére,’ she continued, turning to Madame 
Valakhin, “ voyez comme ce jeune homme s'est fart élégant 
pour danser avec votre fille !” 

Grandmother held my hand tightly, and with an 
inviting, though serious, glance looked at the persons 
present, until the curiosity of all the guests was satisfied, 
and the laughter had become universal. 

I should have been very much aggrieved if Serézha had 
seen me, as I, shrinking from shame, was trying to pull 
away my hand; but I did not feel in the least ashamed 
before Sénichka, who was laughing so heartily that tears 
stood in her eyes and all her locks kept bobbing about her 
heated face. I understood that her laughter was too 


96 CHILDHOOD 


loud and unnatural to be derisive; on the contrary, the 
fact that we were laughing both together, and looking at 
each other, brought me, in a certain way, nearer to her. 
The episode with the glove might have had a bad end, 
but it gave me this advantage, it put me on a free footing 
with a circle which always appeared to me as the most 
terrible, — the circle in the drawing-room. I no longer 
felt the least bashfulness in the parlour. 

The suffering of bashful people arises from their un- 
certainty as to the opinion which is held in regard to 
them. The moment this opinion is clearly defined, — 
whatever it may be, — the suffering ceases. 

How sweet Sdnichka Valdékhin was, when she danced 
a French quadrille opposite me, with the awkward young 
prince! How sweetly she smiled, when she gave me her 
hand in the chaine! How sweetly her blond curls 
leaped about in even measure on her head! How naively 
she made jeté-assemblé with her tiny feet! In the fifth 
figure, when my lady ran from me to the opposite side, 
and I, waiting for the beat, was getting ready to do my 
solo, Sénichka solemnly compressed her lips and began to 
look to one side. But she was unnecessarily afraid for 
me. I boldly made chass€é en avant, chassé en arriere, 
glissade, and, when I came near her, I playfully showed 
her the glove with the two towering fingers. 

She burst into a loud laugh, and even more charmingly 
scraped her tiny feet on the parquetry. I remember how, 
when we formed a circle and joined hands, she bent her 
head, and, without letting my hand go, scratched her little 
nose against her glove. All that is standing vividly be- 
fore my eyes, and I still hear the quadrille from the 
“Maid of the Danube,” to the sounds of which it all took 
place. 

Then came a second quadrille, which I danced with 
Sénichka. When I seated myself by her side, I felt quite 
uncomfortable, and did not have the slightest idea what 


BEFORE THE MAZURKA 97 


to talk to her about. When my silence was prolonged 
too much, I became frightened lest she should take me 
for a fool, and I decided to free her from such a delusion, 
at whatever cost. “ Vous étes une habitante de Moscou ?” 
said I to her and, after an affirmative answer, continued : 
“« Et mot, je nai encore jamais fréquenté la capitale,’ cal- 
culating particularly on the effect of the word /ré- 
quenter. I felt, however, that, though the beginning was 
very brilliant, and gave complete proof of my superior 
knowledge of French, I was not able to continue the con- 
versation in that strain. It was still some time before 
our turn to dance would come, and the silence was 
renewed. I looked in anguish at her, wishing to know 
what impression I had made, and expecting her to 
help me. 

“Where did you find such a killing glove?” she sud- 
denly asked me. This question afforded me great pleasure 
and relief. I explained that the glove belonged to Karl 
Ivanovich, and somewhat ironically expatiated on his per- 
son, telling her how funny he was when he took off his 
red cap, and how he once, dressed in a green wadded coat, 
fell from his horse straight into a puddle, and soon. The 
quadrille passed unnoticed. All that was very well. But 
why did I refer to Karl Ivanovich in derision? Should I 
have lost Sénichka’s good opinion if I had described him 
to her with all the love and respect which I felt for him ? 

When the quadrille was over, Sdnichka said “ Merci” to 
me with as sweet an expression as if I really had earned 
her gratitude. I was in ecstasy, all beside myself with 
joy, and could not recognize myself: whence came my 
courage, confidence, and even boldness? “There is not a 
thing that could confuse me,” thought I, carelessly walk- 
ing up and down the parlour ; “I am ready for everything.” 

Serézha proposed to me to be his vis-a-vis. “ All right,” 
said I, “although I have no lady, I will find one.” Casting 
a searching glance over the whole parlour, I noticed that 


98 CHILDHOOD 


all were engaged, except one young lady, who was stand- 
ing at the door of the drawing-room. A tall young man. 
was just approaching her, as I concluded, in order to invite 
her. He was within two steps of her, and I at the oppo- 
site end of the parlour. In the twinkling of an eye I flew, 
gracefully sliding over the parquetry, across the whole dis- 
tance which separated us, and, shuffling my feet before 
her, with a firm voice, I invited her to the contradance. 
The tal] young lady smiled condescendingly, gave me her 
hand, and the young man was left without a lady. 

I had such a consciousness of my power that I did not 
even pay any attention to the annoyance of the young 
man; but I found out later that he had asked who that 
shaggy boy was that had leaped in front of him and had 
taken his lady away right before his face. 


XXII. 
THE MAZURKA 


THE young man whose lady I had taken away was 
dancing a mazurka, and leading it as the first pair. He 
leaped from his seat, holding his lady’s hand, and instead 
of making “pas de Basques,’ as Mimi had taught us, 
simply ran ahead. When he reached the corner, he 
stopped, spread his legs, struck the floor with his heel, 
turned about, and hopping, ran ahead. 

As I had no lady for the mazurka, I sat behind grand- 
mother’s high chair and observed. : 

“What is he doing there?” I reflected. “That is not 
at all the way Mimi taught us; she assured us that every- 
body danced a mazurka on tiptoe, moving the feet evenly 
and in a circle; and now it seems that they dance it quite 
differently. There the Ivins, and Etienne, and all are 
dancing, but none of them make ‘pas de Basques ;’ and 
even Volddya has learned the new fashion. It is not at 
all bad! And what a sweet girl Sdnichka is! There, she 
has started again—” I felt exceedingly happy. 

The mazurka came to an end. A few elderly men and 
women walked up to grandmother, in order to bid her 
good-bye, and departed. Avoiding the dancers, the lack- 
eys were carefully carrying things for the tables into the 
back rooms. Grandmother was visibly tired, spoke as 
if against her will, and prolonged her words beyond meas- 
ure. ‘The musicians for the thirtieth time lazily began the 
same motive. The tall young lady, with whom I had 

99 


100 CHILDHOOD 


danced, noticed me, while making a figure, and, smiling 
treacherously, — probably, because she wished to please 
grandmother by it, — brought Sdnichka and one of the 
numberless princesses to me. “ose ou hortie,” she said 
to me. 

“Oh, you are here!” said grandmother, turning around 
in her chair. “Go, my dear, go!” 

Although I then felt more like hiding my head behind 
grandmother’s chair than issuing from it, there was no 
refusing. I got up, said “ Rose,” and timidly looked at 
Sénichka. I had no time to come to my senses, when 
somebody’s hand in a white glove passed through my arm, 
and the princess with the pleasantest smile rushed ahead, 
not suspecting in the least that I was completely ignorant 
of what I was to do with my feet. 

I knew that “pas de Basques” was out of place and 
indecent, and might bring shame upon me; but the 
familiar sounds of the mazurka, acting upon my hearing, 
gave a certain direction to my acoustic nerves, which, in 
their turn, transmitted the motion to my legs; and these, 
quite involuntarily and to the surprise of the spectators, 
began to evolve the fatal round and even figures on the 
tiptoes. As long as we proceeded in a straight direction, 
things went fairly well, but at turning I noticed that if I 
did not use proper precaution I should fly ahead. To 
avoid such an unpleasantness, I stopped with the intention 
of producing the same figures which the young man had 
so beautifully produced in the leading pair. But the very 
moment I spread my legs and was about to leap up, the 
princess hurriedly ran about me, and looked at my legs 
with an expression of blank surprise and curiosity. That 
look undid me. I so completely lost myself, that instead 
of dancing, I began, in the strangest manner and entirely 
out of keeping with the measure of the dance or anything 
else, to wriggle my feet in one spot, and finally stopped 
entirely. Everybody was looking at me, some in wonder- 


THE MAZURKA 101 


ment, some with curiosity, some in derision, and some with 
compassion. Grandmother alone remained indifferent. 

“Il ne fallait pas danser, si vous ne savez pas!” was 
heard the angry voice of papa over my very ear, and, giv- 
ing me a light push, he took the hand of my lady, made 
the round with her in the ancient fashion, with the loud 
approval of the spectators, and brought her back to her 
seat. The mazurka was over soon after that. 

“QO Lord! on dost Thou punish me so ee At 


& Everybody hae me, pe will toe ‘ees me. My 
road is barred to everything: to friendship, to love, to 
honours, — everything is lost! Why did Volédya make 
signs to me, which everybody could see, but which did not 
help me? Why did that abominable princess look at my 
legs? Why did Sdnichka — she is a dear, but why did 
she smile at me then? Why did papa blush and seize my 
hand? Is it possible he, too, was ashamed of me? Oh, 
that is terrible! I am sure,if mamma had been here, she 
would not have blushed for her Nikdlenka.” And my 
imagination was transported far, after that sweet image. 
J recalled the meadow in front of the house, the tall linden- 
trees of the garden, the clear pond, over which the swal- 
lows circled, the azure sky, on which white, transparent 
clouds hovered, the fragrant ricks of newly mown hay; 
and many other peaceful, glowing recollections arose in 
my distracted imagination. 


XXIII. 
AFTER THE MAZURKA 


AT supper, the young man, who had danced with the 
leading pair, seated himself at our children’s table, and 
directed his especial attention to me, which would have 
flattered my egotism greatly, if I had been able to have 
any sensations after the misfortune which had befallen 
me. But the young man, it seemed, was anxious to make 
me feel happy: he joked with me, called me a brave fellow, 
and, when none of the grown people were looking on, 
poured into my wineglass wine from all kinds of bottles, 
and insisted that I should drink it. Toward the end of 
the supper, the servant filled about one-fourth of my glass 
with champagne from a bottle that was covered with a 
napkin, but the young man demanded that he should fill 
it to its brim. He compelled me to gulp it down at one 
draught, and I felt a gentle warmth permeating my body, 
and took a special liking to my merry protector, and for 
some unknown reason laughed out loud. 

Suddenly the sounds of “grandfather’s” dance were 
heard in the parlour, and people rose from the table. My 
friendship for the young man came to an end then and 
there. He went over to the grown people, and I did not 
dare to follow him, but went up to listen, with curiosity, 
to what Madame Valdkhin was saying to her daughter. 

“Only half an hour longer,’ Sdnichka said, convinc- 
ingly. 

«Really, my angel, it is impossible.” 

102 


AFTER THE MAZURKA 103 


“ Just do it for my sake, please,” she said, fondling her. 

“Well, will you be happy, if I shall be ill to-morrow ?” 
said Madame Valakhin, smiling carelessly. 

“ Ah, you have consented! Shall we stay ?” called out 
Sénichka, jumping up with delight. 

“What am I todo with you? Go,dance! Here isa 
cavalier for you,” she said, pointing at me. 

Sénichka gave me her hand, and we ran into the 
parlour. 

The wine which I had drunk and the presence and 
merriment of Sdnichka caused me completely to forget 
the unfortunate incident of the mazurka. I did the 
funniest tricks with my feet: now I imitated a horse, 
and ran at a quick trot, proudly raising my feet; now I 
rattled them on one spot, like a wether that is angered at 
a dog, and all the time laughed from the depth of my 
soul, not being in the least concerned what impression I 
produced upon the spectators. Sdnichka, too, did not 
cease laughing: she laughed because we were circling 
around and holding each other’s hands; she laughed at 
some elderly gentleman, who slowly raised his feet in 
order to step across a handkerchief, making it appear that 
it was very hard for him to do; and she nearly died with 
laughter, when I jumped almost to the ceiling, to show 
her my agility. 

As I passed through grandmother’s cabinet, I looked at 
myself in the glass: my face was perspiring, my hair 
dishevelled; my tufts stuck in every direction ; but the 
general expression of my face was so happy, good-natured, 
and healthy, that I was pleased with myself. 

“Tf I were always as I am now,” thought I, “I should 
not fail to please others.” 

But when I again glanced at the pretty face of my 
lady, I found in it, in addition to the expression of merri- 
ment, health, and carelessness, which had pleased me in 
my own, so much of refined and gentle beauty, that I 


104 CHILDHOOD 


grew angry at myself: I understood how foolish it was 
forme to hope that I should be able to direct toward 
myself the attention of so charming a creature. 

I could not hope that my feelings would be reciprocated, 
and I did not even think of it: my soul was full of 
happiness as it was. I did not imagine that one could 
demand any greater happiness than the sentiment of love, 
which filled all my soul with delight, and that one could 
desire anything other than that this sentiment should 
never come to anend. I was satisfied as it was. My 
heart fluttered like a dove, the blood continually rushed 
to it, and I felt like weeping. 

When we passed through the corridor, near the dark 
lumber-room under the staircase, I cast a glance at it, and 
thought: What happiness that would be if it were possible 
to pass an eternity with her in that dark lumber-room, 
and if no one knew that we were living there. 

“Don’t you think we have had a jolly time to-night ?” 
I said in a quiet, quivering voice, and increased my steps, 
being frightened not so much at what I had said, as at 
what I was about to say. 

“Yes, very!” she answered, turning her head to me 
with such an open and kind expression that I ceased 
being afraid. 

“Especially after supper. But if you knew how sorry 
I am (I had intended to say “unhappy ”) that you are 
going to leave soon, and that we shall not see each other 
again !” 

“Why should we not see each other?” she said, looking 
sharply at the tips of her little shoes, and passing her 
fingers over the trellis by which we were walking. “ Every 
Tuesday and Friday mamma and I drive out to the Tver 
Boulevard. Don’t you ever drive out ?” 

“JT will certainly ask next Tuesday, and if they will 
not let me, I will run there all alone, without a cap. I 
know the road well.” 


AFTER THE MAZURKA 105 


“Do you know what?” suddenly said Sdénichka. “I 
always say ‘thou’ to the boys that come to see me. Let 
us speak ‘thou’ to each other! Dost thou want it?” she 
added, shaking her little head, and looking straight into 
my eyes. 

We were just entering the parlour, and another lively 
part of the “grandfather’s” dance was at that moment 
beginning. “I will, with — you,” I said, when the music 
and noise could drown my words. 

“ With thee, not with you,” Sdnichka corrected me, and 
burst out laughing. 

The “grandfather” came to an end, and I had not yet 
succeeded in using a single phrase with “thou,” although 
I kept on composing such as would contain that pronoun 
several times. I did not have the courage for it. “ Dost 
thou want?” and “Come thou” resounded in my ears, 
and produced a kind of intoxication: I saw nothing and 
nobody but Sdénichka. I saw how they lifted her locks, 
pushed them behind her ears, and laid bare parts of her 
brow and temples which I had not yet seen. I saw 
her being wrapped in her green shawl so tightly that only 
the tip of her nose was visible. I noticed that if she 
had not made a small opening near her mouth with her 
rosy little fingers, she would certainly have strangled, and 
I saw how, while descending the staircase with her mother, 
she rapidly turned around to us, nodded her head, and 
disappeared behind the door. 

Volédya, the Ivins, the young prince, and I, we all 
were in love with Sénichka and, standing on the staircase, 
saw her out with our eyes. I do not know whom in 
particular she greeted with the nod of her head, but at 
that moment I was firmly convinced that she meant it 
for me. 

When I bade the Ivins good-bye, I very freely, even 
coldly, spoke with Serézha, and pressed his hand. If he 
understood that with that day he had lost my love and 


106 CHILDHOOD 


his power over me, he doubtless was sorry for it, though 
he endeavoured to be as indifferent as possible. 

It was the first time in my life that I was false to my 
love, and for the first time I experienced the pleasure of 
that sensation. It was a joy for me to exchange my worn- 
out sentiment of habitual loyalty for the fresh sentiment 
of love, full of mystery and uncertainty. Besides, to 
fall in love and cease loving at the same time means 
to love twice as much as before. 


XXIV. 
IN BED 


“How could I have loved Serézha so long and so 
passionately ?” I reflected, lying in bed. “No, he never 
understood, never could appreciate my love, and was not 
worthy of it. But Sdénichka? What a charming girl! 
‘Dost thou want!’ ‘It is for thee to begin!’” 

In my vivid representation of her face, I jumped up 
on all fours, then covered my head with my coverlet, 
tucked it all around me, and, when there were no openings 
left, lay down and, experiencing a gentle warmth, was lost 
in sweet dreams and memories. I fixed my immovable 
eyes upon the under side of the quilt, and saw her face as 
distinctly as an hour before. I mentally conversed with 
her, and that conversation gave me indescribable pleasure, 
though it had absolutely no sense, because it was com- 
posed of so many repetitions of “thou,” “ to thee,” “thy,” 
and “ thine.” 

These dreams were so distinct that I could not fall 
asleep from pleasurable agitation, and was desirous of 
sharing the superabundance of my happiness with some- 
body. 

“Darling!” I said almost aloud, abruptly turning 
around on my other side. “ Volddya, are you asleep ?” 

“No,” he answered me with a sleepy voice, “ what is 
2? 

“T am in love, Volddya, desperately in love with 
Sdénichka !” 

107 


108 CHILDHOOD 


“ Well, what of it?” he answered me, stretching him- 
self. 

“OQ Voléddya! You can’t imagine what is going on in 
me. I had just rolled in my coverlet when I saw her 
and heard her so distinctly, so distinctly, that it is really 
wonderful! And do you know? when I lie and think of 
her, I feel sad, God knows why, and I want to cry 
awfully.” 

Volédya moved restlessly. 

“T wish only for one thing,” continued I, “and that is, 
always to be with her, always to see her, and nothing else. 
Are you in love? Confess really, do, Voléddya!” 

It is strange, but I wanted everybody to be in love with 
Sénichka, and I wanted everybody to talk about it. 

“That is not your business,” said Voldédya, turning his 
face toward me. “ Maybe.” 

“You do not want to sleep, you only pretended!” I 
called out, when I noticed by his burning eyes that he 
did not even think of sleeping, and had thrown off his 
coverlet. “ Let us talk about her. Don’t you think she 
is fine? She is so charming that if she were to command 
me: ‘Nikdlenka, jump out of the window!’ or, ‘throw 
yourself into the fire!’ I swear to you,” said I, “I should 
with pleasure do so. Oh, what a charming girl!” I 
added, vividly imagining her before me; and, completely 
to enjoy that image, I abruptly turned on my other side 
and stuck my head under the pillows. “ Voléddya, I want 
to cry awfully.” 

“You are a fool!” he said, smiling, and then kept 
silent fora moment. “I am entirely different from you; 
I think that if it were possible, I should want at first to 
sit by her side and talk with her —” 

“ Oh, so you are in love, too?” I interrupted him. 

“Then,” continued Voléddya, smiling gently, “then I 
should kiss her little fingers, her eyes, lips, nose, feet, — 
I should kiss her all over — ” 


IN BED 109 


“ Nonsense!” I cried out from under my pillows. 

“You do not understand anything,” contemptuously 
said Voldédya. 

“ No, I understand, but you do not, and you are talking 
nonsense,” said I, through tears. 

“ But there is no reason for weeping. A regular girl!” 


XXV. 
THE LETTER 


On the 16th of April, almost six months after the 
day which I have just described, father came up-stairs, 
during classes, and announced to us that we were going 
home with him that very night. Something pinched me 
at my heart, when I heard the news, and my thoughts at 
once reverted to my mother. 

Our sudden departure was the result of the following 
letter : 


PETROVSKOE, April 12th. 

“YT received your kind letter of April 3d just a little 
while ago, at ten o’clock in the evening, and, as is my cus- 
tom, I am replying to it immediately. Fédor brought it 
from town yesterday, but as it was late, he handed it to 
Mimi this morning. Mimi did not give it to me all day, 
under the pretext that I was nervous and ill. I had, in 
reality, a little fever and, to confess, this is the fourth day 
that I have not been feeling well and have not left the 
bed. 

« Please, do not get frightened, my dear one. I feel 
quite well, and, if Ivan Vasilich will permit, shall get up 
to-morrow. 

“On Friday of last week I went out driving with the 
children ; but at the very entrance upon the highway, near 
the bridge which always frightens me so, the horses stuck 


in the mud. It was a fine day, and I thought I should 
110 


THE LETTER 114 


walk as far as the highway, while they extricated the 
carriage. When I reached the chapel I grew very tired, 
and sat down to rest; but before the people came to pull 
out the carriage, almost half an hour passed, and I began 
to feel cold, particularly in my feet, because I had on thin- 
soled shoes, and they were wet. After dinner I felt a 
chill and a fever, but kept on my feet, as is my habit, and 
after tea sat down to play duets with Lytibochka. (You 
will not recognize her, — she has made such progress !) 
But imagine my surprise when I discovered that I could 
not count the beats. I started several times to count, but 
everything got mixed up in my head, and I heard strange 
sounds in my ears. I counted: one, two, three, and then 
suddenly : eight, fifteen ; and (which is the main thing), I 
knew I was not doing night, but could not correct myself. 
Finally Mimi came to my aid, and almost using force, put 
me to bed. Here you have, my dear one, a detailed ac- 
count of how I grew ill, and how it is all my fault. The 
next day I had a pretty high fever, and our good old Ivan 
Vasilich came. He has been staying at our house ever 
since, and he promised me he would soon let me out in 
the air again. A splendid old man is this Ivan Vasflich! 
When I was feverish and delirious he stayed at my bed 
all night long, without closing his eyes; but now, seeing 
that I am writing. ke is staying with the girls in the sofa- 
room, and I can hear from my chamber how he is telling 
them German stories and how they, listening to them, are 
dying with laughter. 

“La belle Flamande, as you call her, has been my 
guest for two weeks, because her mother has gone to make 
visits, and she proves her sincere attachment by her care 
of me. She confides all the secrets of her heart to me. 
With her pretty face, good heart, and youth, she could 
become a beautiful girl in every respect if she were in 
good hands; but in the society in which she lives, to 
judge by her own story, she will be completely ruined. 


5G CHILDHOOD 


It has occurred to me that if I did not have so many 
children of my own, I should be doing a good act if I 
took her into my house. 

“Lytibochka wanted to write to you herself, but she 
has torn her third sheet, and she says: ‘I know what a 
scoffer papa is; if I make one mistake, he will show it to 
everybody.’ Katenka is as dear as ever, and Mimi is as 
good and tiresome. 

«“ Now let us speak of something serious: you are writ- 
ing me that your affairs are not going well this winter, 
and that you will be compelled to take some Khabdrovka 
money. It is strange to me that you even ask my con- 
sent. Does not that which belongs to me equally belong 
to you ? 

“You are so good, my dear one, that for fear of griev- 
ing me you are hiding the actual condition of your affairs, 
but I guess you have lost much at cards,and I am not in 
the least, I swear it, aggrieved at the fact, so that, if this 
affair can be straightened out, please don’t spend much 
thought over it, or vainly worry about the matter. I have 
become accustomed not to count on your winnings for our 
children, not even, you will forgive me for saying so, on 
your property. Your winnings give me as little pleasure 
as your losses grieve me; I am only grieved at your un- 
fortunate passion for gaming, which robs me of a part of 
your tender attachment for me, and compels you to tell 
such bitter truths as those you are telling me now, — and 
God knows how that pains me! I never cease praying 
to Him that He may deliver us, not from poverty (what 
is poverty ?), but from that terrible condition when the 
interests of our children, which I shall have to protect, 
will come in conflict with our own. Thus far God has 
fulfilled my prayer; you have not crossed the one line, 
after which we shall have either to sacrifice our property, 
which no longer belongs to us, but to our children, or — 
it is terrible to think of it, and yet we are threatened by 


THE LETTER HS 


a terrible misfortune. Yes, it is a heavy cross the Lord 
has sent us both. 

“You are writing me about the children, and return 
to our old quarrel: you ask my permission to send them 
to some educational establishment. You know my preju- 
dice against such an education. 

“TI do not know, my dear one, whether you will agree 
with me; in any case, I implore you, for the sake of our 
love, to promise me that as long as I am alive, and after 
my death, if it shall please God to separate us, this shall 
not happen. 

“You tell me that it will be necessary for you to go to 
St. Petersburg about our affairs. Christ be with you, my 
friend! go and come back as soon as possible! We all 
feel very lonely without you. The spring is remarkably 
fine ; the balcony door has already been put out; the path 
in the greenhouse was completely dry four days ago; 
the peaches are in full bloom; only here and there 
patches of snow are left; the swallows have returned ; 
and to-day Lytibochka has brought me the first spring 
flowers. The doctor says that in three or four days I 
shall be quite well again, and able to breathe the fresh 
air, and warm myself in the April sun. Good-bye, my 
dear one! Please, do not worry, neither about my illness 
nor about your losses; settle your affairs as soon as pos- 
sible, and come back to us with the children for the 
whole summer. JI am making wonderful plans as to how 
we are going to pass it, and you only are wanting to 
materialize them.” 


The following part of the letter was in French, in a 
closely written and uneven hand, and upon a different 
piece of paper. I translate it word for word: 

“Don’t believe what I am writing you about my ill- 
ness; nobody suspects to what degree it is serious. I 
alone know that I shall never rise from bed again. Do 


114 CHILDHOOD 


not lose a single minute, and come at once, and bring the 
children with you. Maybe, I shall live long enough to 
embrace and bless them; that is my one last wish. I 
know what a blow I am striking you, but you would all 
the same, sooner or later, receive it from me, or from 
others. Let us try with fortitude and with hope in the 
mercy of God to bear this misfortune! Let us submit to 
His will! 

“Do not imagine that what I write is the delirium of 
a diseased imagination ; on the contrary, my thoughts are 
unusually clear at this moment, and I am perfectly calm. 
Do not console yourself in vain with the hope that these 
are false and dim presentiments of a fearsome soul. No, 
I feel, I know, —and I know because it has pleased God 
to reveal it to me, — that I am to live only a short time. 

“Will my love for you and my children end together 
with my life? I have come to understand that this is 
impossible. I feel too strongly this minute, to think that 
the feeling without which I cannot understand existence 
should ever be annihilated. My soul cannot exist with- 
out love for you; and I know that it will exist for ever, 
for this reason alone, if for no other, that such a feeling 
as my love could not have originated, if it were ever to 
come to an end. 

“T shall not be with you; but I am firmly convinced 
that my love will never leave you, and this thought is so 
comforting to my soul that I await my approaching death 
in peace and without fear. 

“T am calm, and God knows that I have always 
looked at death as a transition to a better life; but why 
do tears choke me? Wherefore are the children to lose 
their beloved mother? Why should such a blow be 
struck you? Why must I die, when your love has 
made me boundlessly happy ? 

“ His holy will be done! 

“JT cannot write any more for tears. Maybe I shall 


THE LETTER Ltd 


not see you again. So I thank you, my truest friend, for 
all the happiness with which you have surrounded me in 
this life; and there, I will ask God that He may reward 
you. Good-bye, my dear one! Remember that I shall be 
no more, but my love will never and in no place leave 
you. Good-bye, Volédya, good-bye, my angel! Good-bye, 
my Benjamin, my Nikodlenka ! 

“ Will they ever forget me ?” 

In this letter was enclosed a French note from Mimi, 
of the following contents: 

“The sad presentiments, of which she tells you, have 
been only too well confirmed by the doctor. Last night 
she ordered this letter to be taken to the post. Thinking 
that she. said that in her delirium, I waited until this 
morning, and decided to break the seal. No sooner had 
I opened it, than Natdlya Nikoléevna asked me what I 
had done with the letter, and ordered me to burn it, if 
it had not yet been sent. She speaks of it continually, 
and assures us that it will kill you. Do not delay your 
journey, if you wish to see this angel before she has left 
you. Pardon this scrawl. I have not slept these three 
nights. You know how I love her!” 

Natalya Sdvishna, who had passed the whole night of 
the 11th of April in mother’s chamber, told me that 
having written the first part of her letter, mamma put 
it near her on the table, and fell asleep. 

“T myself,’ said Natalya Sdvishna, “I must confess, 
dozed off in the chair, and the stocking fell out of my 
hands. Then in my sleep, about one o’clock, I heard her 
talk. I opened my eyes: there she, my little dove, was 
sitting in her bed, folding her arms just like this, and her 
tears were pouring down in three streams. ‘So all is 
ended?’ was all she said, and covered her face with 
her hands. 

“T jumped up, and began to ask her what the matter 
was with her. 


116 CHILDHOOD 


“«Ah, Natalya Sdvishna, if you only knew whom [I 
saw just now!’ 

“No matter how much I asked her, she would not 
answer me. She only ordered me to put the small table 
near her, then wrote something more in the letter, told 
me to seal it in her presence, and to send it away at 
ence. After that everything went worse and worse.” 


XXXVI. 
WHAT AWAITED US IN THE COUNTRY 


On the 25th of April we dismounted from the road 
carriage, at the veranda of the Petrédvskoe house. When 
we left Moscow, papa was lost in thought, and upon 
Volédya’s asking whether mamma was not ill, he 
looked at him with sadness, and silently nodded his 
head. During the journey, he became perceptibly calmer ; 
but as we approached our home, his face assumed an even 
more sad expression, and when, upon leaving the carriage, 
he asked of Fdéka, who came running out of breath: 
«Where is Natdlya Nikoldevna?” his voice was not firm, 
and there were tears in his eyes. Good old Fdka stealth- 
ily looked at us, dropped his eyes, and, opening the door 
to the antechamber, answered, with his face turned 
away : 

“This is the sixth day she has not left the chamber.” 

Milka, who, as I later learned, had not stopped whin- 
ing since the first day when mamma became ill, joy- 
fully rushed up to father, jumped on him, whined, and 
licked his hands; but he pushed her aside and went 
into the sitting-room, thence into the sofa-room, from 
which a door led straight into mamma’s chamber. The 
nearer he approached this room, the more his unrest 
was to be noticed in all his movements. As he entered 
the sofa-room, he walked on tiptoe, barely drew breath, 
and made the sign of the cross before he had the courage 


to turn the latch of the closed door. Just then, unkempt, 
117 


118 CHILDHOOD 


weeping Mimi came running in from the corridor. “ Ah, 
Peter Alekséndrych !” she said in a whisper, with an ex- 
pression of real despair, and then, noticing that papa was 
turning the latch of the door, added scarcely audibly: 
“ You can’t pass through here; you have to go in through 
the outer door.” 

Oh, how heavily all that acted upon my childish im- 
agination, which was prepared for sorrow by some terrible 
presentiment ! 

We went into the maids’ room. In the corridor we 
ran against fool Akim, who used to amuse us with his 
grimaces; at this moment he not only did not seem 
funny to me, but nothing struck me so painfully as the 
appearance of his meaningless, indifferent face. In the 
maids’ room two servant girls, who were sitting at 
some work, rose to greet us, but the expression of their 
faces was so sad that I felt terribly. Passing through 
Mimi’s room, papa opened the door of the chamber, and 
we entered. To the right of the door were two windows, 
which were darkened by shawls; at one of these, Natalya 
Sévishna was seated, with spectacles on her nose, and 
was knitting a stocking. She did not rise to kiss us, as 
she was in the habit of doing, but only raised herself a 
little, glanced at us through her spectacles, and her tears 
began to flow in streams. I did not like it at all that at 
the first sight of us they all started weeping, while just 
before they were calm. 

To the left of the door stood a screen, behind the 
screen a bed, a small table, a medicine box, and a large 
armchair, in which the doctor was dozing. Near the bed 
stood a very blond young lady of remarkable beauty, in 
a white morning gown, and, rolling up her sleeves a little, 
she put ice to the head of mamma, whom I was able to 
see. This young lady was la belle Flamande, of whom 
mamma had written, and who later on was to play such 
an important part in the life of our whole family. The 


WHAT AWAITED US IN THE COUNTRY 119 


moment we entered, she took one hand away from 
mamuia’s head, and arranged over her breast the folds of 
her gown, then said in a whisper: “She is unconscious.” 

I was in great anguish then, but I noticed all the de- 
tails. It was almost dark in the room, and warm, and 
there was a mingled odour of mint, eau de cologne, cam- 
omile, and Hoffmann’s drops. That odour struck me so 
powerfully that not only when I smell it, but even when 
I think of it, my imagination immediately transfers me 
into that gloomy, close room, and reproduces all the 
minutest details of that terrible moment. 

Mamma’s eyes were open, but she did not see anything. 
Oh, I shall never forget that terrible look! There was 
so much suffering expressed in it. 

We were taken away. 

When I later asked Natdlya Sdvishna about the last 
moments of my mother, she told me this: 

“When you were taken away, my little dove kept on 
tossing for a long time, as though something were chok- 
ing her here; then she dropped her head from the pillows, 
and fell asleep, as softly and calmly as if she were an 
angel of heaven. I had just gone out to see why they 
were not bringing the drink, and when I came back, 
she, the treasure of my heart, had thrown off everything 
about her, and was beckoning to father. He bent down 
to her, but she evidently had no strength to say what she 
wanted; she only opened her lips, and began to sigh: 
‘My Lord! God! The children! The children!’ I 
wanted to run for you, but Ivdn Vasflich stopped me, 
saying that it would excite her too much, and that it 
would be better not to call you. Then she only lifted 
her hand, and let it fall again. God knows what she 
meant to say by it! I think she was blessing you, 
though you were out of sight; and thus God has decreed 
that she should not see her children before her last mo- 
ments. Then she raised herself, my little dove, folded 


120 CHILDHOOD 


her little hands just like this, and then spoke in a voice 
that I can’t repeat: ‘Mother of God, do not desert them !’ 
By this time the agony had reached her heart, and one 
might see by her eyes that the poor woman was suffering 
terribly: she fell back on her pillows, bit the sheet, and 
her tears began to flow in streams.” 

“Well, and then?” 

Natdlya could not speak any more: she turned her 
face away, and burst into tears. 

Mamma had passed away amidst terrible sufferings. 


AX VIT. 
GRIEF 


THE next day, late in the evening, I wanted to take 
another look at her: overcoming an involuntary feeling 
of terror, I softly opened the door, and walked into the 
parlour on tiptoe. 

In the middle of the room stood the coffin on a table; 
around it were burning candles in tall silver candlesticks ; 
in the distant corner sat the sexton, and in a monotonous 
voice read the psalter. 

I stopped at the door and began to look, but my eyes 
were so red with tears, and my nerves were so unstrung, 
that I could not make out anything. Everything was 
strangely running together: the light, the brocade, the 
velvet, the tall candlesticks, the rose-coloured lace-bor- 
dered pillow, the crown, the cap with its ribbons, and 
something translucent, of a wax-colour. I stood on 
a chair, in order to see her face; but I imagined I saw 
in the place where it ought to have been the same pale 
yellow, translucent object. I could not believe that it 
was her face. I began to look more closely at it, and by 
degrees recognized the familiar features which were so 
dear to me. I shuddered from terror, when I convinced 
myself that it was she. But why were her closed eyes 
so sunken? Why this terrible pallor, and the black spot 
under the transparent skin on one of her cheeks? Why 
was the expression of her whole face so severe and cold ? 
Why were her lips so pale, and their position so beautiful, 

121 


122 CHILDHOOD 


so majestic, and expressing such an unearthly calm that 
a cold chill passed over my back and hair, as I looked at 
her ? 

T looked, and felt that a certain incomprehensible, irre- 
sistible power was attracting my eyes to that lifeless face. 
I riveted my gaze upon it, and my imagination painted 
for me pictures abloom with life and happiness. I forgot 
that the dead body, which was lying before me and at 
which I was looking meaninglessly, as at an object which 
had nothing in common with my memories, was she. I 
imagined her now in one, now in another situation: alive, 
merry, smiling; then I was suddenly struck by some 
feature in her pale face, upon which my eyes were rest- 
ing; I recalled the terrible reality, and shuddered, but did 
not cease looking at it. And again dreams took the place 
of reality, and again the consciousness of reality destroyed 
my dreams. Finally my imagination grew tired, it no 
longer deceived me. The consciousness of reality also 
disappeared, and I completely forgot myself. I do not 
know how long I remained in that condition, and I do 
not know what it really was; I know only that I lost, 
for some time, the consciousness of my whole existence, 
and experienced some elevated, inexpressibly pleasant and 
sad sensation. 

Maybe, as she was flying away to a better world, her 
beautiful soul looked back in sorrow at the one in which 
she left us. She noticed my sadness, took pity on me, and 
upon pinions of love, with a heavenly smile of sympathy, 
winged her way to earth, in order to console and bless 
me. 

The door creaked, and another sexton entered the room 
to take the place of the first. That noise woke me, and 
the first thought that came to me was that inasmuch as I 
was not weeping, and was standing upon the chair in an 
attitude which had in it nothing of a touching nature, the 
sexton might take me for an unfeeling boy, who had 


GRIEF 123 


climbed upon the chair out of discomfort or curiosity; I 
made the sign of the cross, bowed, and fell to weeping. 

As I now recall my impressions, I find that only that 
minute of self-forgetfulness was a real grief. Before and 
after the funeral, I did not stop weeping, and was sad, but 
I am ashamed to think of that sadness, because it was 
always mingled with some selfish feeling. Now it was the 
desire to show that I was grieved more than the rest, now 
the anxiety about the effect I was producing on the 
others, now an aimless curiosity, which caused me to 
make observations on Mimi’s bonnet, and the faces of the 
people present. I hated myself because I did not experi- 
ence exclusively a sentiment of sorrow, and endeavoured 
to conceal all the other feelings; for this reason my grief 
was not sincere nor natural. Besides, I experienced a 
certain pleasure from the knowledge that I was unhappy, 
and tried to awaken the consciousness of misfortune, and 
this egoistical feeling more than any other drowned my 
real sorrow in me. 

Having slept soundly and calmly through the night, as 
is always the case after great bereavement, I awoke with 
dried eyes and soothed nerves. At ten o’clock we were 
called to the mass which was celebrated before the 
funeral. The room was filled with servants and peasants, 
who, all of them in tears, had come to bid their mistress 
farewell. During the service I wept decently, made the 
signs of the cross, and bowed to the ground, but I did not 
pray with sincerity, and was sufficiently indifferent; I 
was concerned about the new half-dress coat which they 
had put on me, and which was tight under my arms; I 
was thinking how to keep from soiling my pantaloons at 
the knees, and stealthily made observations upon all the 
people present. Father stood at the head of the coffin, 
was as pale as a sheet, and with evident difficulty re- 
strained his tears. His tall stature in the black dress 
coat, his pale, expressive countenance, and his usual 


124 CHILDHOOD 


graceful and confident movements, whenever he made the 
sign of the cross, bowed, reaching the floor with his hand, 
took the candle out of the priest’s hands, or walked up to 
the coffin, were exceedingly effective; but I do not know 
why, I did not like his being able to produce such an 
effect at that particular moment. 

Mimi was leaning against the wall and, it seemed, 
barely could stand on her feet; her dress was crushed 
and full of feathers, and her cap was on one side; her 
swollen eyes were red, her head was shaking; she sobbed 
without interruption in a heartrending voice, and con- 
tinually covered her face with a handkerchief and with 
her hands. It seemed to me that she did so, in order to 
hide her face from the spectators, when resting a moment 
from her simulated sobs. I recalled how the day before 
she told father that mamma’s death was a terrible blow 
to her, from which she never expected to recover, that 
she had lost everything in mother, that this angel (so 
she called mamma) had not forgotten her before her 
- death, and had expressed her desire of safeguarding 
her future and that of Kdtenka. She shed bitter tears, 
while telling this, and it may be that the feeling of sor- 
row was genuine, but it was not pure and exclusive. 
Lytibochka, in a black dress, with mourning ruffles all 
wet with tears, drooped her head, and looked now and 
then at the coffin. Her face expressed childish terror. 
Ka4tenka stood near her mother and, in spite of her drawn 
face, was as rosy as usual. Volddya’s open nature was 
also open in its grief; he either stood lost in thought, his 
immovable look directed to some object, or his mouth sud- 
denly began to twitch, and he hurriedly made the signs of 
the cross and bowed. All the outsiders who attended the 
funeral were unbearable to me. The consoling words 
which they spoke to father — that she would be better 
there, that she was not for this world — provoked a 
certain anger in me. 


GRIEF 125 


What right did they have to speak of and weep for 
her? Some of them, speaking of us, called us orphans. 
As if we did not know ourselves that children who had 
no mother were called by that name! They seemed to 
take delight in being the first to name us so, just as people 
are in a hurry to call a newly married girl Madame. 

In the farther corner of the parlour, almost hidden 
behind the open door of the buffet, knelt the bent, gray- 
haired old woman. Folding her hands and raising them 
to heaven, she did not weep, but prayed. Her soul went 
out to God, and she asked Him to unite her with the 
mistress whom she had loved more than any one in 
the world, and she was firmly convinced that this would 
soon happen. 

“ Here is one who has loved her sincerely!” thought I, 
and I was ashamed of myself. 

The mass was over; the face of the deceased one was 
uncovered, and all persons present, except us, went up to 
the coffin, one after another, and made their obeisance. 

One of the last to walk up to take leave of mother was 
a peasant woman, with a pretty five-year-old girl in her 
arms, whom, God knows why, she had brought with her. 
Just then I accidentally dropped my wet handkerchief, 
and I was on the point of lifting it up. The moment I 
bent down, I was struck by a terrible, penetrating cry, 
which was filled with such terror that if I were to live a 
hundred years I shall not forget it, and whenever I think 
of it, a cold chill passes over my body. I raised my head: 
on a tabouret, near the coffin, stood the same peasant 
woman, with difficulty restraining the girl in her arms, 
who fought with her little hands, and, throwing back her 
terrified face and fixing her bulging eyes upon the coun- 
tenance of the dead woman, shrieked in a terrible, preter- 
natural voice. I cried out in a voice which, I think, was 
even more terrible than the one that had struck me, and 
ran out of the room. 


126 CHILDHOOD 


Only then I understood what the strong and heavy 
odour came from, which filled the room, mingling with 
the odour of incense ; and the thought that the face which 
only a few days before was beaming with beauty and 
gentleness, the face of her I loved more than anything else 
in the world, could evoke terror, for the first time, it 
seemed, opened the bitter truth to me, and filled my soul 
with despair. 


XXVIII. 
THE LAST SAD MEMORIES 


MAMMA was no more, but our life ran in the usual 
routine; we went to bed and rose at the same hours, and 
in the same rooms. Morning and evening, tea, dinner, 
supper, — everything was at the customary hours. The 
tables and chairs stood in the same places. Nothing in 
the house nor in our manner of life had changed, — only 
she was no more — 

It seemed to me that after such a misfortune everything 
ought to change. Our usual manner of life appeared to 
me as an insult to her memory, and too vividly reminded 
me of her absence. 

On the day before the funeral, after dinner, I was 
sleepy, and I went to the room of Natdlya Sdvishna, 
intending to lie down on her soft feather bed, under her 
warm quilt. When I entered, Natdlya Sdvishna was 
lying on her bed, and no doubt was sleeping. When she 
heard the sound of my footsteps, she raised herself, threw 
back the woollen kerchief with which her head was coy- 
ered to protect it against flies, and, fixing her cap, seated 
herself on the edge of her bed. 

As it used to happen frequently that after dinner I 
came to rest in her room, she guessed the cause of my 
coming, and said to me, rising from her bed: 

« You have come to rest yourself, my little dove? Lie 


down!” 
127 


128 CHILDHOOD 


“Don’t say that, Natdlya Sdvishna!” I said, holding 
her back by her hand. “I did not come for that —I just 
came so—and you are tired: you had better lie down 
yourself.” 

“No, my dear one, I have slept enough,” she said to me 
(I knew she had not slept for three days). “And this is 
no time for sleeping,” she added, with a deep sigh. 

I wanted to have a talk with Natalya Sdvishna about 
our misfortune. I knew her loyalty and love, and so it 
would have been a consolation for me to weep with her. 

“Natalya Savishna,” I said, after a moment’s silence, 
and seating myself on the bed, “did you expect this?” 

The old woman looked at me in perplexity and with 
curlosity, as if she did not quite understand why I asked 
her that. 

“ Who could have expected this?” I repeated. 

“Oh, my dear one,” she said, casting a look of the ten- 
derest compassion upon me, “I not only did not expect it, 
but I can’t even think of it. It has long been time for 
me, an old woman, to put my old bones to rest; for see 
what I have lived to go through: I have buried the old 
master, your grandfather, — may his memory be eternal, — 
Prince Nikoléy Mikhéylovich, two brothers, sister An- 
nushka, and they were all younger than I, my dear one, 
and now I have to outlive her, no doubt for my sins. His 
holy will be done! He has taken her because she was 
worthy, and He needs good people even there.” 

This simple thought gave me consolation, and I moved 
up to Natalya Sdvishna. She crossed her arms over her 
breast, and looked up to the ceiling; her moist, sunken 
eyes expressed a great, but calm, sorrow. She was firmly 
convinced that God would not separate her long from her 
upon whom all the power of her love had been centred 
for so many years. 

“ Yes, my dear one, it does not seem long since I was 
swathing and watching her, and she called me Nasha. 


THE LAST SAD MEMORIES 129 


She used to run up to me, and embrace me with her tiny 
arms, and kiss me, and say : 

«“«Nashik mine, beauty mine, darling mine. And I, 
joking her, would say: 

“~«Tt is not so, motherkin, you do not love me! Just let 
you grow up, and you will marry, and will forget your 
Nasha.’ And she would fall to musing: ‘No,’ she’d say, 
‘I had better not marry, if I can’t take Ndsha with me. 
I will never abandon Nasha.’ And there! she has aban- 
doned me, she did not wait my time. And she did love 
me; but, to tell the truth, whom did she not love? Yes, 
my dear one, you must not forget your mother; she was 
not human, but an angel of heaven. When her soul will 
be in the heavenly kingdom, she will love you there, too, 
and she will rejoice in you there.” 

“Why do you say, Natalya Savishna, when she will be 
in the heavenly kingdom?” asked I. “I think she must 
be there now.” 

“No, my dear one,” said Natalya Sdvishna, dropping 
her head, and seating herself nearer to me on the bed, 
“now her soul is here.” 

And she pointed upwards. She spoke almost in a 
whisper, and with such feeling and conviction that I 
involuntarily raised my eyes, and, looking at the mould- 
ing, tried to find something there. 

“ Before the soul of a righteous person goes to heaven, 
it has to pass through forty ordeals, my dear one, for forty 
days, and may still be in her house —” 

She long spoke in the same strain, and she spoke with 
simplicity and conviction, as if she were telling the com- 
monest things which she had seen herself, and in regard 
to which no one could have the slightest doubts. I lis- 
tened to her, with bated breath, and though I did not 
understand well what she was telling me, I believed her 
fully. 

« Yes, my dear one, now she is here, is looking at you, 


130 CHILDHOOD 


and, maybe, hearing what we are saying,” concluded 
Natalya Sdvishna. 

And, lowering her head, she grew silent. She needed 
a handkerchief to wipe off her falling tears. She rose, 
looked straight into my face, and said in a voice quiver- 
ing with emotion: 

“The Lord has moved me up several steps by this 
experience. What is left for me here? For whom am 
I to live, whom am I to love?” 

“Do you not love us?” I said, with reproach, and with 
difficulty restraining my tears. 

“God knows how I love you, my little doves, but I 
have never loved, nor can love, any one as I have loved 
her.” 

She could not speak any longer, turned away from me, 
and sobbed out loud. 

I did not think of sleeping after that. We sat silent, 
facing each other, and wept. 

Féka entered the room. Noticing our condition, and 
evidently not wishing to disturb us, he looked about 
silently and timidly, and stopped at the door. 

“What is it, Fokasha?” asked Natalya Sdvishna, 
wiping her tears with her handkerchief. 

«A pound and a half of raisins, four pounds of sugar, 
and three pounds of rice for the kutyd.”? 

“Right away, right away, my friend,” said Natalya 
Sdvishna. She hurriedly took a pinch of snuff, and with 
rapid steps went to one of the coffers. The last traces of 
the sorrow which had been produced by our conversation 
disappeared the moment she had a duty to perform which 
she regarded as very important. 

« Why four pounds?” she grumbled, as she fetched the 
sugar and weighed it out on the steelyard. “Three 
pounds and a half will be enough.” 


1 Rice-cake used in the church during the reading of the mass for 
the dead. 


THE LAST SAD MEMORIES ies 


And she took a few pieces off the scale. 

«And what kind of a business is this? Yesterday I 
let you have eight pounds of rice, and now you are ask- 
ing again for some. You may do as you please, Fdéka, but 
I will not give you any rice. That Vanka is glad there 
is a disturbance in the house, and so he thinks that, 
perhaps, I shall not notice it. No, I will not be indul- 
gent when it comes to the master’s property. Who has 
ever heard such a thing? Eight pounds!” 

“What is to be done? He says it has all been used 

up.” 
“Well, here it is, take it! Let him have it!” 
I was struck by that transition from the touching 
emotion with which she had been speaking to me, to 
grumbling and petty considerations. When I reflected 
over it at a later time, I understood that, in spite of 
what was going on in her soul, she had sufficient presence 
of mind to do her work, and the power of habit drew her 
to her ordinary occupations. The sorrow had affected 
her so powerfully, that she did not find it necessary to 
conceal the fact that she was able to attend to other 
matters; she would have found it difficult to understand 
how such a thought could come to one. 

Vanity is a sentiment that is incompatible with true 
sorrow, and yet that sentiment is so firmly inoculated in 
the nature of man that the deepest sorrow rarely expels 
it. Vanity in sorrow is expressed by the desire to appear 
bereaved, or unhappy, or firm. And these low desires, to 
which we do not own up, but which do not abandon us, 
not even in the deepest grief, deprive it of power, dignity, 
and sincerity. But Natdlya Sdvishna was so deeply 
struck by her misfortune that in her soul not a wish 
was left, and she lived only from habit. 

After having supplied Féka with the desired provi- 
sions, and reminded him of the cake which was to be 
made for the entertainment of the clergy, she dismissed 


132 CHILDHOOD 


him, took up a stocking, and again sat down by my 
side. 

Our conversation reverted to the same subject, and we 
once more began to weep, and to wipe off our tears. 

The conversations with Natalya Sdvishna were repeated 
every day. Her quiet tears and gentle, pious speeches 
afforded me consolation and relief. 

But soon we were separated; three days after the 
funeral we moved with our whole household to Moscow, 
and it was my fate never to see her again. 

Grandmother received the terrible news only upon our 
arrival, and her grief was very great. We were not 
admitted to her, because she was unconscious for a whole 
week; the doctors were afraid for her life, the more so 
since she not only would not take any medicine, but did 
not even speak to any one, nor sleep, nor take any food. 
At times, while she was sitting all alone in her room, 
she suddenly burst out laughing, then sobbed without 
tears, went into convulsions, and shouted meaningless 
and terrible words in a preternatural voice. This was 
the first great sorrow which had struck her down, and it 
brought her to despair. She felt she must accuse some- 
body of her misfortune, and she uttered fearful threats, 
exhibiting meanwhile unusual bodily strength, jumped up 
from her chair, walked across the room with long, rapid 
steps, and then fell down unconscious. 

I once walked into her room: she sat, as usual, in her 
chair, and was, apparently, calm; but her glance appalled 
me. Her eyes were wide open, but her vision was indefi- 
nite and dull: she looked straight at me, and in all prob- 
ability did not see me. Her lips slowly began to smile, 
and she spoke in a touching and tender voice: “ Come to 
me, my dear, come to me, my angel!” I thought she 
was speaking to me, so I walked up to her, but she was 
not looking at me. “Ah, if you knew, my treasure, 
how I have suffered, and how happy I am now that you 


THE LAST SAD MEMORIES 133 


have arrived.” J understood that she imagined she saw 
mamma, and I stopped. “And they told me that you 
were no more,” she continued, frowning. “ What nonsense! 
You can’t die before me!” and she laughed out with a 
terrible, hysterical laughter. 

Only people who are capable of strong affection can 
experience deep sorrow; but this very necessity of loving 
serves for them as a counteraction of their sorrow, and 
cures it. For this reason the moral nature of man is even 
more tenacious than his physical nature. Sorrow never 
kills. 

A week later grandmother was able to weep, and she 
grew better. Her first thought, after she regained con- 
sciousness, was of us, and her love for us was increased. 
We did not leave her chair; she wept softly, spoke of 
mamma, and tenderly petted us. 

It would never have occurred to a person who saw 
grandmother’s bereavement, that she exaggerated it, 
though the expression of that sorrow was vehemont 
and touching; but somehow I sympathized more with 
Natalya Sdvishna, and I am convinced, even now, that 
nobody loved mamma so sincerely and purely, or grieved 
for her so much as did that simple-hearted and loving 
creature. 

With my mother’s death the happy period of my life 
was over, and a new epoch, that of my boyhood, began ; 
but since the memories of Natdlya Sdvishna, whom I 
never saw again, and who had had such a strong and 
helpful influence upon the direction and development of 
my sentiments, belong to the first epoch, I shall say 
a few words about her and her death. 

After our departure, as our people who remained in the 
village later told me, she felt very lonely for want of 
work. Although all the coffers were still in her keep- 
ing, and she did not cease rummaging through them, 
transposing, hanging things up, and spreading them out, 


134 CHILDHOOD 


she missed the noise and bustle of the country residence 
when it is inhabited by its masters, to which she had 
been accustomed from her childhood. The bereavement, 
the changed manner of life, and the absence of petty 
cares soon developed in her an ailment of old age for 
which she had a natural predisposition. Precisely a year 
after mother’s death, she developed dropsy, and took to 
her bed. 

I think it was hard for Natalya Sdvishna to live alone, 
and harder still to die alone, in the large Petrévskoe 
house, without relatives, without friends. Everybody in 
the house loved and respected her, but she had no friend- 
ship for anybody, and she prided herself on the fact. She 
surmised that in her capacity of stewardess, where she 
enjoyed the confidence of her masters and had so many 
coffers with all kinds of property in her charge, her 
friendship for anybody would necessarily lead to hypoc- 
risy and criminal condescension. For this reason, or, 
perhaps, because she had nothing in common with the 
other servants, she kept aloof from all and maintained 
that in the house she had no kith nor kin, and that she 
would show no indulgence in matters pertaining to her 
master’s property. 

She sought and found consolation in confiding her feel- 
ings to God in fervent prayers; but at times, during 
moments of weakness, to which we all are subject, when 
the best consolation is afforded man by the tears and 
sympathies of living beings, she lifted upon her bed 
her lapdog, who, fixing her yellow eyes upon her, licked 
her hands; Natdlya Sdvishna spoke to her and, weeping 
softly, stroked her. When her lapdog began pitifully to 
whimper, she tried to quiet her, and said: “ Now stop, I 
know without you that I shall die soon.” 

A month before her death she took some white calico, 
white muslin, and rose-coloured ribbons out of her coffer : 
with the aid of her servant-girl she sewed a white dress 


THE LAST SAD MEMORIES 135 


and a cap for herself, and made the minutest arrange- 
ments for everything that would be needed for her fu- 
neral. She also went through the coffers of her master, 
and transferred everything, with the greatest precision, 
according to an invoice, to the wife of the business stew- 
ard; then she took out two silk dresses and an ancient 
shawl, which had been given her at one time by grand- 
mother, and grandfather’s military uniform, with golden 
trappings, which had also been given into her full pos- 
session. Thanks to her care, the seams and the lace of 
the uniform were still fresh, and the cloth had not been 
touched by moths. Before her death she expressed her 
wish that one of the dresses — the rose-coloured one — 
should be given to Voldédya for a dressing-gown or smok- 
ing-jacket, the other, —puce in checks,—to me, for 
similar use, and the shawl to Lytibochka. The uniform 
she bequeathed to whichever of us became an officer first. 
The rest of her property and money, except forty roubles 
which she laid aside for her burial and mass, she left to 
her brother. Her brother, who had long ago been eman- 
cipated, was living in some distant Government, and lead- 
ing a most riotous life, so she had no relations with him 
during her lifetime. 

When Natalya Sdvishna’s brother appeared to get his 
inheritance, and the whole property of the deceased 
woman amounted only to twenty-five roubles, he was 
unwilling to believe it, and declared it was impossible 
that an old woman, who had lived for sixty years in 
a rich house, who had had everything in her hands, 
and all her life lived parsimoniously and quarrelled 
about every rag, should have left nothing. But it was 
really so. 

Natalya Sdvishna suffered two months from her 
disease, and bore her sufferings with truly Christian 
patience; she did not grumble, did not complain, but 
only, as was her custom, continually invoked God. An 


Lao CHILDHOOD 


hour before death, she confessed with quiet joy, and 
received the holy sacrament and extreme unction. 

She begged forgiveness of the inmates of the house for 
offences which she might have caused them, and asked 
her confessor, Father Vasili, to transmit to us that she 
did not know how to thank us for our kindnesses, and 
that she asked us to forgive her, if through her stupidity 
she had offended any one, but that “I have never been a 
thief, and have never so much as filched a thread from 
my masters.” This was the one quality for which she 
valued herself. 

Having donned the gown which she had prepared, and 
a cap, and resting on her pillows, she continued talking to 
the priest to the very last. She happened to think that 
she had left nothing for the poor, so she took out ten 
roubles, and asked him to distribute them among the poor 
of his parish; then she made the sign of the cross, 
lay down, and drew her last sigh, pronouncing the name 
of God with a joyful smile. 

She left life without regret, was not afraid of death, 
and accepted it asa boon. This is often said, but how 
rarely does it happen in reality! Natdlya Sdvishna 
could well afford to be without fear of death, for she died 
with her faith unshaken, and fulfilling the law of the 
gospel. All her life was a pure, unselfish love and self- 
sacrifice. 

What if her belief might have been more elevated, 
and her life directed to higher purposes, was her 
pure soul on that account less worthy of love and 
admiration ? 

She executed the best and highest act of this life, — 
she died without regrets or fear. 

She was buried, according to her own wish, not far 
from the chapel which was built over mother’s grave. 
The mound under which she lies, and which is overgrown 
with nettles and agrimony, is surrounded by a black 


THE LAST SAD MEMORIES 137 


picket-fence, and I never fail to go from the chapel 
to this fence and to make a low obeisance. 

At times I stop in silence between the chapel and the 
black fence. In my soul again arise gloomy recollections, 
and I think: Has Providence connected me with these 
two beings only that I may eternally regret them ? 


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BOYHOOD 
A Novel 


1854 


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BOYHOOD 


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AT EASY STAGES 


AGAIN two carriages drove up to the veranda of the 
Petrédvskoe house: one, a coach, in which seated them- 
selves Mimi, Kdtenka, Lytibochka and a chambermaid, 
and steward Yakov himself, on the box; another, a calash, 
in which Volédya and I, and lackey Vasfli, who had but 
lately been taken from field labour, were to travel. 

Papa, who was to follow us to Moscow a few days 
later, stood on the veranda without his cap, and made 
the sign of the cross against the window of the coach, and 
at the calash. 

“Well, Christ be with you! Move on!” Yakov and 
the coachmen (we were travelling in our own carriages) 
doffed their caps and made the sign of the cross. “Move 
on! Godspeed!” 

The bodies of the carriages began to leap up and down 
on the uneven road, and the birches of the highway flew 
by us, one after another. I did not feel sad in the least: 
my mental vision was turned not to what I left behind 
me, but to what was ahead of me. The farther I de- 
parted from the objects that were connected with sad 


memories, which until then had filled my imagination, 
141 


142 BOYHOOD 


the more these memories faded, and were soon exchanged 
for the joyous consciousness of a life full of strength, 
freshness, and hope. 

I have rarely passed a few days, I shall not say as 
merrily, for I felt as yet ashamed to abandon myself to 
merriment, — but as agreeably, as well, as the four days 
of our journey. Before my eyes was neither the locked 
door of mother’s chamber, by which I could not pass 
without a shudder, nor the closed piano, which not only 
was not opened, but was looked upon with a certain ter- 
ror, nor the mourning garments (we were all dressed in 
simple travelling costumes), nor any other of the many 
things which reminded me of my irretrievable loss and 
caused me to beware of every manifestation of life that 
in any manner could offend her memory. Here, on the 
contrary, the ever new, picturesque places and objects 
arrested and diverted my attention, and vernal nature 
peopled my soul with balmy feelings of satisfaction with 
the present, and with bright hope for the future. 

Early, very early in the morning, heartless and, as is 
always the case with men in their new duties, overzeal- 
ous, Vasili pulled off my coverlet and assured me that it 
was time to travel, and that everything was ready. How- 
ever much I squirmed, and pretended, and growled, to 
get at least another quarter of an hour for my sweet 
morning sleep, I could see by Vasili’s firm face that he 
was inexorable, and would pull off my coverlet another 
twenty times; so I jumped up and ran into the court- 
yard to get washed. ; 

In the hall was already boiling the samovar, which out- 
rider Mitka, turning red like a lobster, was fanning with 
his breath. The air was damp and misty, just as when 
steam rises from a strong-smelling dunghill. The sun 
with its bright, merry light illuminated the eastern part of 
the heavens and the straw thatches of the spacious sheds 
around the courtyard, the straw gleaming from the dew 


AT EASY STAGES 143 


that covered it. Beneath the sheds could be seen our 
horses, tied to the manger, and could be heard their 
measured chewing. A shaggy black dog, who had cud- 
dled up before dawn on a dry head of manure, lazily 
stretched himself and, wagging his tail, betook himself at a 
jogging pace to the other side of the yard. The industrious 
housewife opened the creaking gates, and drove the pen- 
sive cows into the street, where were already heard the 
tramp and lowing and bleating of the cattle, and exchanged 
a word or two with her sleepy neighbour. Filipp, with his 
shirt-sleeves rolled up, drew the bucket from the deep 
well by turning the wheel, and, splashing the clear water, 
poured it into the oaken trough, near which the wakeful 
ducks were plashing in a puddle; and I looked with 
pleasure at Filipp’s large face with its expansive beard, 
and at his swollen veins and muscles, which were sharply 
defined on his powerful bare arms, whenever he exerted 
himself at work. 

They were stirring behind the partition, where Mimi 
slept with the girls, and through which we had carried on 
a conversation in the evening ; Masha ran by us ever more 
frequently, carrying various objects which she tried to 
conceal with a cloth from our curiosity. Finally the 
door was opened, and we were called to drink tea. 

Vasili kept on running into the room, in a fit of super- 
fluous zeal, carried away, now one thing, now another, 
beckoned to us, and persistently implored Marya Ivdén- 
ovna to make an early start. The horses were hitched 
up, and expressed their impatience by tinkling their bells 
from time to time. The portmanteaus, coffers, cases, and 
boxes were again put in their places, and we took our 
seats. But every time we seated ourselves in the calash, 
we found a mountain instead of a seat, so that we never 
could understand how it had all been properly packed 
away the day before, and how we were going to sit down. 
In particular a walnut tea-box with a three-cornered lid, 


144 BOYHOOD 


which they had placed in our calash, provoked my great- 
est anger. But Vasfli said that it would all settle after 
awhile, and I was compelled to believe him. 

The sun had just risen from under a dense white cloud 
which had covered the east, and the whole surrounding 
country was merged in a soft, soothing light. Every- 
thing around me was beautiful, and my soul felt light 
and calm. The road wound in front of us like a broad 
ribbon, among fields of dried-up stubble and verdure 
agleam with dew. Here and there along the road we 
came across a gloomy willow or a young birch-tree with 
small, viscous leaves, which threw its long, immovable 
shadow across the dry, clayey ruts and the small, green 
grass of the road. The monotonous rumble of the wheels 
and tinkling of the bells did not drown the song of the 
skylarks which circled near the very road. The odour 
of moth-eaten cloth, of the dust, or of some acid, which 
characterized our calash, was overcome by the fragrance 
of morning, and I felt in my soul a pleasurable unrest, a 
desire to do something, — which is a sign of genuine 
enjoyment. 

I had not had any time to say my prayers at the tav- 
ern: but having frequently observed that some misfor- 
tune always befell me on days when I, for some reason 
or other, forgot to carry out this ceremony, I tried to 
correct my omission: I doffed my cap, turned to one side 
of the calash, said my prayers, and made the signs of the 
cross under my blouse, so that no one should see them. 
But a thousand different objects distracted my attention, 
and I absent-mindedly repeated several times in succes- 
sion the same words of my prayer. 

Some figures were seen to move on the foot-path which 
wound along the road: those were women making their 
pilgrimage. Their heads were wrapped in soiled kerchiefs ; 
on their backs they carried bast knapsacks; their feet 
were covered with dirty, torn rag stockings and heavy 





‘ 
= ne 


‘3 ~ OP HOOD 
*  ~ See Teed placed in our calash. provoked my graet- 
as Yet Voll: said that it would afl settle after 

wi, whe compelled to beusywe him. 

ose Bac hor risen fron Laces a dense white cloud 
be “i oem tiv east ane? ube whole surrounding 
Upper, WAN [oer i tn & et * “hing light. Every- 
eta Piste): Peaittitis, soot ay soul felt light 
2 wei The pone | > fpep2: of as like a broad 
“When: améut Heide of ast AD ayeie and verdure 
ava With dew) Vi sta! torte sloug the road we 


gious LARIMS 2 2 ew or A yee Zap tree with 
4 

PRAT Vis 14° pe theccw co ORG ‘wranvable 

aLOW. ATs ‘by rte Au< tds aust! green 


treat lL: weno iret & Mee A -dece 
Ppt york i et got drow: tae sre of the 
anya. ~<a tte very ros-| ‘Fhe odour 
imei. . - og or of some acid, which 
siege “~~ wercome by the fragrance 
i 1» pleasurable unrest, a 
eis "<* te # sign of genuine 


Lin, ~~ ter ompyets at the tav- 
tn oth fhiyt rome mausfor- 
brah 4 3 j ton iit /6Re@on 
; eimai, | tid to 
inne ae taeced to one side 
sgt. «fe the signs of the 
ras “> should see them. 
a isteseied my attention, 
exht 4 : everl times in succes- 


wl) - a the foot-path which 
Ta sem women making their 
~ «veped in soiled kerchiefs ; 

rT ~. kpapsacks; their feet 
ickings and heavy 








Interior of a Peasant’s Home 


Mhetosravure from Drawing by Carl Buddeus 





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Pete el a eee 
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AT EASY STAGES 145 


bast sandals. They moved onward in single file, with 
slow and heavy steps, moving their staffs in even measure, 
and barely casting a glance upon us. I was long busy 
with the question, whither they went, and wherefore, — 
whether their wandering would last a considerable time 
and how soon it would be before their long shadows, 
which they cast upon the road, would merge with the 
shadow of the willow, which they had to pass. 

Then a four-horse post-carriage rapidly bore down upon 
us. Two seconds more, and the faces, which, at the 
distance of five feet, had cast a glance of curiosity and 
greeting upon us, flashed by us, and it seemed strange to 
me that these faces had nothing in common with me, and 
that I should, probably, never see them again. 

Along one side of the road ran two sweating, shaggy 
horses with their collars and their traces tucked under 
their harness. The driver, a young fellow, with his lamb- 
skin cap poised on one ear, hung his long legs in large 
boots ‘astride a horse, whose yoke rested loosely upon its 
neck, so that the bell tinkled but rarely and inaudibly, 
and he sang a drawling song. His countenance and 
attitude expressed so much indolent, careless satisfaction, 
that it seemed to me the acme of happiness to be a driver, 
to ride on return horses, and sing melancholy songs. 

There, far beyond the ravine, a village church with a 
green roof was outlined against the light-blue sky ; there, 
appeared the village itself, the red roof of the manor, and 
a green garden. Who was living in that house? Were 
there any children, a father, a mother, a teacher in it? 
Why could we not drive up to the house, and become 
acquainted with its proprietors? There, was a long cara- 
van of immense wagons, each of which was drawn by 
three well-fed, stout-legged horses, and we were com- 
pelled to drive far to one side, to get beyond them. 

“What are you hauling?” asked Vasili of the first 
driver, who, dangling his huge legs over the foot-rest and 


146 BOYHOOD 


waving his whip, kept on staring at us meaninglessly, and 
gave us an answer only when it was not possible to hear 
him. ‘ 

“What goods are these?” Vasili turned to another 
wagon, in the fenced-off front part of which the driver 
lay under a new mat. A blond head with a red face 
and russet beard for a moment stuck out from the mat, 
with an indifferent, contemptuous look gazed at our 
calash, and again hid itself. It occurred to me that the 
drivers could not make out who we were, and whither 
and whence we were travelling. 

For an hour and a half I was absorbed in various 
observations, and paid no attention to the crooked figures 
on the verst-posts. But now the sun began to glow more 
warmly upon my head and back, the road grew more 
dusty, the three-cornered lid of the tea-box annoyed me 
more and more, and I several times changed my position : 
I felt warm, uncomfortable, and tired. All my attention 
was turned to the verst-posts and the figures upon them. 
I made all kinds of mathematical calculations in regard 
to the time when we should arrive at the station. “Twelve 
versts are one third of thirty-six, and to Liptsy is forty- 
one versts, consequently we have travelled one third, and 
how much ?” and so forth. 

“ Vasili,” said I, when I noticed that he was beginning 
to nod on his box, “ let me sit on the box, my dear!” 

Vasili consented. We exchanged places: he immedi- 
ately started to snore, and so spread himself in the calash 
that no place was left for anybody else; while from the 
height which I occupied, a very pleasing picture was 
unravelled before me, namely our four horses, Neruch- 
fnskaya, Sexton, Left Shaft, and Apothecary, whose 
properties I had studied to the minutest details and 
shades. 

“ Why is Sexton to-day on the off side, and not on the 
nigh side, Filipp?” I asked him somewhat timidly. 


AT EASY STAGES 147 


“Sexton ?” 

« And Neruchinskaya is not pulling at all,” said I. 

“Sexton can’t be put on the nigh side,” said Filfpp, 
without paying any attention to my last remark. “She 
is not the kind of a horse to be put on the nigh side. 
On the nigh side you need a horse which, in short, zs a 
horse, and not this kind of a horse.” 

Saying this, Filipp bent down to the right, and, pulling 
the reins with all his might, began, in a peculiar upward 
manner, to strike Sexton’s tail and legs; and though 
Sexton was doing her best and drawing the whole calash, 
Filipp did not put a stop to his manceuvre except when 
he felt the necessity for resting and, for some reason, 
pushing his cap down on one side, though it was firmly 
and correctly poised upon his head. 

I took advantage of such a happy moment, and asked 
Filfpp to let me do the driving. Filipp gave me at first 
one line, then another; finally all six lines and the whip 
passed into my hands, and I was completely happy. I 
tried in every way to imitate Filipp, and asked him 
whether I was doing right, but it generally ended by his 
being dissatisfied with me: he said that one was drawing 
too much, and another was not drawing at all, and finally 
he stuck his elbow in front of me, and took the lines 
away. 

The heat was increasing, and the cirrus clouds swelled 
like soap-bubbles, higher and higher, and came together 
and assumed dark gray shades. A hand with a bottle 
and a bundle was thrust out of the window of the coach. 
Vasili, with remarkable agility, leaped from the box, 
while the calash was in motion, and brought us cheese- 
cakes and kvas. 

When we reached the incline of a steep hill, we all 
alighted from our carriages, and sometimes we ran a race 
down to the bridge, while Vasfli and Ydkov put the brakes 
to the wheels and from both sides supported the coach 


148 BOYHOOD 


with their hands, as if they could prevent it from falling. 
Then, with Mimi’s permission, Voléddya or I took a seat in 
the coach, and Lytibochka or Katenka seated themselves 
in the calash. These exchanges gave the girls great 
pleasure, because they justly discovered that it was much 
jollier in the calash. At times, when we crossed a grove 
during the heat, we fell behind the coach, gathered green 
branches, and built an arbour in the calash. The trans- 
portable arbour caught up with the coach, at full speed, 
while Lytibochka screamed at the top of her voice, which 
she never failed to do at any occasion that gave her much 
pleasure. 

At last, there was the village where we were to dine 
and rest. There were the smells of the village,— the 
smoke, the tar, and the sheepskins, and we heard the 
sound of conversation, the tramp of steps, and the rattle 
of wheels. The carriage bells no longer sounded as in 
the open field, and on both sides cabins flew by with 
their straw thatches, carved frame porches, and tiny 
windows, with -red and green shutters, through which 
here and there stuck out the head of a curious woman. 
Here were the village boys and girls in shirts only : open- 
ing wide their eyes, and extending their arms, they stood 
stock-still, or, tripping with their bare feet in the dust, 
ran, in spite of the threatening motions of Filfpp, after the 
carriages and endeavoured to climb on the portmanteaus 
which were tied behind. Now, red-haired tavern-keepers 
came running to the carriages on both sides, and with 
enticing words and gestures vied in the effort to attract 
the travellers. “Whoa!” the gate creaked, the catch held 
it in place, and we drove into the courtyard. Four 
hours of rest and freedom! 


iL 
THE STORM 


THE sun inclined to the west, and with its hot rays un- 
bearably burnt my neck and cheeks. It was impossible 
to touch the heated edges of the calash. Dense dust rose 
along the road and filled the air. There was not the least 
breeze to carry it off. In front of us, at a constant dis- 
tance, shook the tall, dusty body of the coach with its 
baggage, and beyond it now and then could be discerned 
the whip which the coachman waved, and his hat and 
Yakov’s cap. I did not know what to do with myself; 
neither the black, dust-covered face of Volédya, who was 
dozing by my side, nor the movements of Filfpp’s back, 
nor the elongated shadow of our calash, which followed 
us at an oblique angle, afforded me any distraction. All 
my attention was directed to the verst-posts, which I no- 
ticed at a distance, and to the clouds, which before were 
scattered over the horizon and now assumed ominous, 
black hues, and gathered into one gloomy storm-cloud. 
Now and then rumbled a far-off peal of thunder. This 
latter circumstance more than anything else increased my 
impatience to reach a tavern at the earliest possible mo 
ment. The storm induced in me an inexpressibly heavy 
feeling of melancholy and terror. 

It was yet ten versts to the nearest village, when a 
dark, lilac cloud arose, God knows where, without the 
slightest wind, but nevertheless rapidly moved up toward 
us. The sun, not yet overcast, brightly illuminated its 

149 


150 BOYHOOD 


sombre form and the gray streaks which ran down from 
it to the horizon. At times lightning flashed in the dis- 
tance, and I heard a weak din, which by degrees grew 
louder, came nearer, and passed into uninterrupted peals 
that resounded through the whole heavens. Vasili rose 
from his seat and raised the top of the calash; the coach- 
men put on their sleeveless coats, and at every thunder- 
clap doffed their caps, and made the sign of the cross ; the 
horses pricked up their ears, expanded their nostrils, as if 
to sniff the fresh air which was borne from the approach- 
ing storm-cloud, and the calash ran faster over the dusty 
road. 

I was ill at ease, and felt my blood coursing faster in 
my veins. Now the foremost clouds began to shroud the 
sun; now it peeped out for the last time, lighted up the 
terribly gloomy side of the horizon, and disappeared. 
The whole country was suddenly changed and assumed a 
sombre aspect. Here, an aspen grove began to quiver; 
its leaves turned turbidly white, brightly outlined against 
the lilac background of the cloud, and they rustled and 
whirled about. The tops of tall birches began to sway, 
and tufts of dry grass flew across the road. Sand-martins 
and white-breasted swallows flitted all about the calash, 
as if wishing to stop it, and flew by the very breasts of 
the horses; jackdaws, with their disarranged wings, flew 
somehow sideways along the wind. The corners of the 
leather boot, which we had pinned over us, commenced to 
rise, letting in streams of moist wind, and, flapping, struck 
the body of the calash. Lightning flashed, in the very 
calash it seemed, blinded our eyes, and for an instant 
lighted up the gray cloth, the tasselled border, and 
Voldédya’s figure crouching in acorner. At the same mo- 
ment a majestic peal was heard over our heads, and it 
rose higher and higher, wider and wider, on an immense 
spiral, increased in strength, and passed into a deafening 
roar, which made me tremble against my will, and hold 


THE STORM 151 


my breath. God’s anger! How much poetry there is in 
this popular conception ! 

The wheels revolved faster and faster; I could see by 
the backs of Vasili and Filipp, who impatiently waved 
his whip, that they, too, were afraid. The calash rapidly 
descended a hill, and rattled over a board bridge ; I was 
afraid to move, and every minute expected our common 
destruction. 

“Whoa!” the trace-leather was torn, and we were 
compelled to stop, in spite of the uninterrupted, deafening 
peals. 

Leaning my head against the edge of the calash, I fol- 
lowed, in breathless expectancy, and against hope, the 
movements of the fat, black fingers of Filipp, who leisurely 
tied a knot and straightened out the traces, all the time 
striking the off horse with the palm of his hand and with 
the whip handle. 

Agitated feelings of melancholy and terror grew apace 
in me with the storm, but when the majestic moment of 
silence came, which generally preceded the burst of storm, 
these feelings were so intensified that, if this condition 
had lasted another fifteen minutes, I should have died of 
excitement. Just then there issued from underneath the 
bridge a human being, having on nothing but a dirty, 
ragged shirt, with a swollen, meaningless countenance, a 
shaking, close-cropped bare head, crooked, fleshless legs, 
and a shining, red stump of a hand which he thrust 
straight into the calash. 

“Good people! Give, for Christ’s sake, to the poor 
man!” resounded his ailing voice, and the beggar made 
the sign of the cross with each word, and bowed low to 
the ground. 

I cannot express the sensation of cold terror which at 
that moment took possession of my soul. A chill ran 
through my hair, and my eyes were directed to the beg- 
gar with a blank stare of terror. 


152 BOYHOOD 


Vasili handed the beggar some alms and _ instructed 
Filfpp in regard to the fastening of the trace-leather, and 
when all was done, Filipp gathered up his lines, climbed 
on his box, and began to fetch something out of his side 
pocket. No sooner did we start, than a blinding flash of 
lightning, which for a moment filled the ravine with a 
sheet of fiery light, compelled the horses to stop; without 
the slightest interval, it was accompanied by such a deaf- 
ening crack of thunder that it seemed the whole vault of 
heaven would cave in upon us. The wind grew stronger; 
the manes and tails of the horses, Vasfli’s cloak and the 
edges of the boot took the same direction, and desperately 
flapped in the gusts of the furious wind. A large drop of 
rain fell upon the leather top of the calash ; then another, 
a third, a fourth, and suddenly it sounded as if some one 
had started drumming over our heads, and the whole 
country resounded with the even pattering of the falling 
rain. By the movement of Vasili’s elbow I could tell 
that he was untying his purse; the beggar continued 
making the signs of the cross and the low obeisances, and 
ran along so near the very wheels that I thought he would 
be run over. “Give, for Christ’s sake!” Finally a cop- 
per coin flew past us, and the pitiful creature, whose 
dripping wet shirt closely fitted his lean body, swaying in 
the wind, stopped perplexed in the middle of the road, and 
disappeared from my sight. 

The slanting rain was driven by the wind, and fell as 
from a bucket; streams ran down Vasili’s frieze back and 
into a puddle of turbid water, which had formed itself on 
the boot. The dust, gathering up in globular form, was 
changed into liquid mud, which was kneaded by the 
turning wheels. The jolts of the carriage became less 
frequent, and streams of turbid water ran along the 
clayey ruts. The lightning flashed over a greater space 
and was paler, and the bursts of thunder were not so 
striking in the even patter of the rain. 


THE STORM 153 


Then the rain fell in smaller drops; the storm-cloud 
broke up into billowy cloudlets, and began to grow 
brighter there where the sun ought to have been, and 
through the grayish-white edges of the cloud a patch of 
pure azure was barely visible. A minute later, a timid 
sunbeam glistened in the puddles of the road, upon strips 
of drizzling rain that fell as through a sieve, and upon 
the bright, rain-washed verdure along the highway. A 
black cloud just as threateningly shrouded the opposite 
side of the horizon, but I no longer was afraid of it. I 
experienced an inexpressibly joyful sensation of the 
hope of life, which rapidly took the place in me of the 
heavy feeling of terror. My soul was as smiling as the 
refreshed and gladsome Nature. 

Vasili threw back the collar of his cloak, took off his 
cap and shook it; Volddya threw back the boot; I put 
my head out of the calash, and eagerly breathed the 
fresh, aromatic air. The bright, washed body of the 
coach with its portmanteaus and boxes swayed in front 
of us; the backs of the horses, the harness, the lines, the 
tires, — everything was wet and glistened in the sun, as 
if it were freshly varnished. 

On one side of the road was a boundless field of winter 
grain, which was here and there intercepted by shallow 
hollows; it gleamed with its wet earth and verdure, and 
spread its shady carpet to the very horizon. On the 
other side was an aspen grove, overgrown with hazel and 
black alder bushes; it stood as though in a superabun- 
dance of happiness, without stirring, and slowly shed bright 
drops of rain from its clean-washed branches on the dry 
last year’s leaves below. On all sides crested skylarks 
circled with their merry songs, or rapidly swooped down ; 
in the wet bushes could be heard the busy movements of 
tiny birds, and from the middle of the grove resounded 
the voice of the cuckoo. 

So bewitching to me was the exquisite fragrance of 


154 BOYHOOD 


the forest after a vernal storm,— the sweet odour of the 
birches, the violets, the sere leaves, the clavarias, and the 
bird-cherry, that I was not able to stay in the calash, 
leaped down from the carriage step, ran into the bushes 
and, paying no attention to the rain-drops that showered 
down upon me, broke off some wet branches of budding 
bird-cherry, and struck my face with it, intoxicating my- 
self with its exquisite aroma. I did not even pay any 
attention to the fact that immense clods of dirt were 
sticking to my boots, and that my stockings were quite 
wet, but, plashing through the mud, ran to the window 
of the coach. 

“ Lytibochka! Kdtenka!” I cried, giving them a few 
branches of bird-cherry. “Just see, how nice it is!” 

The girls screamed and went into ecstasies, and Mimi 
cried that I should go away, or I would be run over. 

“ Just smell it, how nice it is!” I cried. 


Tit. 
A NEW VIEW 


KATENKA sat near me in the calash and, inclining 
her pretty head, pensively followed the dusty road which 
retreated under the wheels. I looked at her in silence, 
and J was surprised at the unchildlike, sad expression which 
I had observed for the first time upon her rosy face. 

«“ Now, we shall soon be in Moscow,” I said. “ What 
do you think of Moscow ?” 

“T do not know,” she answered, unwillingly. 

« Anyway, what do you think? Is it larger than Ser- 
pukhov, or not?” 

« What ?” 

“Oh, nothing.” 

But, with the instinctive feeling, with which one 
guesses the thoughts of another, and which serves as the 
guiding thread to a conversation, Katenka understood 
that her indifference pained me. She raised her head, 
and turned toward me. 

«Papa told you that we are to live at grandmother's ?” 

“He did. Grandmother wants us all to live together.” 

« And we shall all live there ?” 

“Of course. We shall live up-stairs, occupying one 
half, you the other, and papa the wing; but we shall eat 
together down-stairs, with grandmother.” 

“Mamma says that grandmother is such a serious 


woman, and has such a quick temper.” 
155 


156 BOYHOOD 


“N-no! That seems so only at first. She is serious, 
but not impatient ; on the contrary, she is good and jolly. 
You ought to have seen what a party there was upon her 
name day !” 

«Still, I am afraid of her; and, besides, God knows 
whether we shall —” 

Katenka suddenly grew silent, and again fell to mus- 
ing. 

« Wha-at?” I asked in agitation. 

“ Nothing, I just was thinking.” 

“No, you said: ‘God knows.” 

“So you said that you had a party at grandmother's.” 

«Yes, it is a pity you were not there. There were a 
lot of people, —a thousand people, — music, and generals, 
and I danced. Katenka!” I suddenly said, stopping in 
the middle of my description, “ you are not listening!” 

“Yes, Lam; you said that you were dancing.” 

«Why are you so sad ?” 

“One can’t always be merry.” 

“No, you have changed a great deal since we came 
back from Moscow. Tell me truly,” I added with a firm 
glance, turning toward her, “why have you become so 
strange ?” 

«Am I?” Katenka answered with animation, which 
proved that my remark interested her. “I am not 
strange at all.” 

“No, you are not the same you used to be,” I con- 
tinued. “Formerly it was evident that you were one 
with us in everything, that you regarded us as your rela- 
tives and loved us as we love you; but now you have 
become so solemn, and you keep away from us —” 

“Not at all!” 

“No, let me finish,” I interrupted her, as I began to 
feel a light tickling in my nose, which preceded the tears 
that always stood in my eyes when I expressed a long 
repressed secret thought. “ You keep away from us, and 


A NEW VIEW 157 


talk only with Mimi, as though you did not wish to 
know us.” 

“A person can’t always be one and the same; one has 
to change sometime,” answered Katenka, who was in the 
habit of explaining everything by a certain fatalistic 
necessity, whenever she did not know what to say. 

I recalled how once, when she had quarrelled with 
Lytibochka, who had called her a “silly girl,” she had 
answered: “ Not everybody can be clever, somebody has 
to be silly,” but I was not satisfied with the answer that 
one has to change sometime, so I continued my inquiry: 

“But why must one?” 

“ We shall not be living together all the time,” Katenka 
answered, lightly blushing and looking fixedly at Filipp’s 
back. “Mamma was able to stay at the house of your 
mother, who was her friend; but it is yet a question 
whether she will be able to get along with the countess, 
who, they say, is such an irritable woman. And, besides, 
we shall have to part sometime: you are rich,— you 
have the Petrévskoe estate, and we are poor, — mamma 
has nothing.” 

“ You are rich, we are poor,” these words and the con- 
ceptions which were connected with them appeared 
uncommonly strange to me. According to the ideas 
which I then had, only beggars and peasants could be 
poor, and I in no way was able in my imagination to con- 
nect this idea of poverty with graceful, pretty Kdtenka. 
It seemed to me that Mimi and Katenka, who had always 
lived with us, would remain with us for ever, and that 
everything would be divided equally. It could not be 
otherwise. Now, a thousand new, indistinct ideas in 
regard to their lonely condition nestled in my brain, and 
I felt so ashamed that we were rich, and they poor, that I 
blushed and could not take courage to look up into 
Katenka’s face. 

“ What of it, if we are rich, and they poor?” I thought, 


158 BOYHOOD 


“and how does the necessity for our separation follow from 
it? Why can’t we divide equally what we have?” But 
I understood that it was not proper to speak with Kdtenka 
about it, and a certain practical instinct told me, in oppo- 
sition to my logical observations, that she was right, and 
that it would be out of place to explain my thought to 
her. 

«You really mean to leave us?” I said; “ but how are 
we going to live separately ?” 

“What is to be done? I am sorry myself. Only, 
when this happens, I know what I shall do —” 

“You will become an actress! What nonsense!” I 
interrupted her, for I knew that it was her favourite dream 
to become an actress. 

“ No, I used to say that when I was little.” 

“Then, what are you going to do?” 

“T will go to a monastery to live, and I will wear a 
black dress and a velvet bonnet.” 

Kéatenka burst out weeping. 

My reader, have you ever happened to notice at a cer- 
tain stage of your life, how your view of things completely 
changed, as though all the things which you used to know, 
heretofore, suddenly turned a different, unfamiliar side to 
you? Some such moral transformation took place in me 
for the first time, during our journey, and from this I 
count the beginning of my boyhood. 

I obtained for the first time a clear idea of the fact that 
we, that is, our family, were not alone in the world, that 
not all interests centred about us, and that there was 
another life for people who had nothing in common with 
us, who did not care for us, and who even did not have 
any idea of our existence. To be sure, I knew it before; 
but I did not know it in the same manner as now, — I 
was not conscious of it, did not feel it. 

A thought passes into a conviction only by one certain 
road, which is frequently quite unexpected and different 


A NEW VIEW 159 


from the roads which other minds pass over, in order 
to obtain the same conviction. My conversation with 
Kéatenka, which had touched me so powerfully, and had 
caused me to consider her future position, was that road 
forme. When I looked at the villages and towns, through 
which we passed, where in every house lived at least one 
such family as ours, at the women and children, who with 
a moment’s curiosity gazed at the carriage, and then for 
ever disappeared from view, at the shopkeepers and peas- 
ants, who not only did not greet us, as I was used to being 
greeted at Petrévskoe, but did not even favour us with their 
glances, — the question for the first time troubled me, 
what it was that could interest them, if they did not at 
all care for us. And from this question originated others. 
What they lived by, and how? How they were educated ? 
Whether people taught them, and let them play, and how 
they punished them? and so forth. 


EV: 
AT MOSCOW 


Upon arriving at Moscow, my changed view of things 
and men, and my relation to them became even more per- 
ceptible. 

When, at my first meeting with grandmother, I saw her 
thin, wrinkled face and dim eyes, my feelings of servile 
respect and awe, which I used to experience before her, 
gave way to compassion; and when she, burying her face 
in Lytibochka’s head, sobbed as if the body of her be- 
loved daughter were before her eyes, my compassion was 
changed even into a feeling of affection. I felt ill at 
ease, when I saw her grief at our first meeting. I was 
conscious of the fact that we were nothing in her eyes in 
our own persons, and that we were dear to her only as a 
memory ; I felt that in every kiss, which she showered 
upon my cheeks, only this thought was expressed: she is 
no more, she is dead, and I shall never see her again! 

Papa, who in Moscow paid very little attention to us, 
and, with an ever worried face, came to us only for din- 
ner, in a black coat or dress coat, together with his tall 
shirt collars, with his wadded morning-gown, his village 
elders, stewards, visits to the threshing-floor and hunts, 
had lost much in my eyes. Karl Ivanovich, whom grand- 
mother called “ valet,” and who, God knows why, had sud- 
denly taken it into his head to exchange his respectable, 
familiar bald head for a red wig with a straight parting 


almost in the middle, appeared so odd and ridiculous to 
160 


AT MOSCOW 161 


me, that I wondered how it was I had never noticed it 
before. 

An invisible barrier had arisen also between the girls 
and ourselves. We all had secrets of our own. They 
evidently were proud of their skirts, which were getting 
longer, and we were proud of our pantaloons with straps. 
Mimi on the first Sunday came to dinner in such a swell 
dress and with such ribbons upon her head, that one could 
see at once we were no longer in the country, and every- 
thing would go differently now. 


he 
MY ELDER BROTHER 


I was only a year and a few months younger than 
Volédya; we grew up, studied, and always played to- 
gether. No distinction of elder and younger was made 
between us; but just about this time of which I am 
speaking, I began to understand that Volédya was not 
my companion either in years, inclinations, or ability. It 
even seemed to me that Voldédya himself recognized his 
seniority, and was proud of it. This impression, how- 
ever false it may have been, inspired me with an egoism 
which suffered at every conflict with him. He stood 
higher than I in everything: in games, in study, in dis- 
putes, in the ability to carry himself,— and all this 
removed me from him, and caused me to experience in- 
comprehensible moral suffering. If, when Volddya for 
the first time received Dutch shirts with turned down 
collars, I had said straight out that I was angry because 
I did not have such myself, I am sure I should have felt 
more at ease, and should not have thought every time he 
fixed his collar that he was doing it only to annoy me. 

I was vexed most of all by the fact that Voldédya 
seemed to understand me but tried to conceal it. 

Who has not noticed those mysterious, wordless rela- 
tions which manifest themselves in a scarcely visible 
smile, in the motion or glance of persons who always live 
together, in brothers, friends, husband and wife, master 


and servant, especially when these people are not entirely 
162 


MY ELDER BROTHER 163 


open to each other? How many unuttered desires, 
thoughts, and fears of not being understood are expressed 
in one casual glance, when your eyes meet timidly and 
with indecision ! 

But, it may be, my excessive sensibility and tendency 
for analysis deceived me in this respect; it may be, 
Voldédya did not feel at all as I did. He was impassioned, 
open, and inconstant in his emotions. When he was 
carried away by any matter whatsoever, he gave himself 
up to it with his whole soul. 

Suddenly he would be smitten with a passion for pic- 
tures: he immediately began to paint, bought pictures 
with all his pocket money, begged them of his teacher of 
drawing, from papa, and from grandmother; or with 
a passion for trifles with which to adorn his table, and 
which he, therefore, gathered up all over the house; or 
with a passion for novels, which he secretly procured and 
read for days and nights at atime. I was involuntarily 
carried away by his passions, but was too proud to follow 
in his footsteps, and too young and dependent to choose 
a road for myself. I envied nothing so much as Voldédya’s 
felicitous, noble, and open-hearted character, which was 
expressed with particular precision in the quarrels which 
arose between us. I felt that he was doing right, but I 
was unable to imitate him. 

Once, while his passion for things was at white heat, I 
walked up to his table and by chance broke an empty, 
gaily coloured bottle. 

“Who asked you to touch my things?” said Voldédya, 
who had just entered the room and noticed the disorder 
which I had produced in the symmetry of the various 
ornaments on his table. “ And where is the bottle? I 
am sure, you —” 

“ Accidentally dropped it, and it was broken. I am 
sorry.” 

“Do me the favour, and never dare to touch any of my 


164 BOYHOOD 


things again,” he said, putting together the pieces of the 
broken bottle, and looking at them with deep regret. 

“Please do not command,’ I answered. “I have 
broken it, and that is the end of it; what is the use of 
saying anything about it?” 

And I smiled, although I did not feel in the least like 
smiling. 

«Yes, it is nothing to you, but it is much to me,” 
continued Volédya, shrugging his shoulder, which gesture 
he had inherited from papa. “You broke it, and now 
you laugh! What an unbearable urchin!” 

“T am an urchin, and you are big and stupid.” 

“JT do not intend having any words with you,” said 
Volédya, lightly brushing me aside. “Get away!” 

“Don’t push me!” 

“Get away!” 

“T tell you, don’t push me!” 

Volédya took hold of my arm, and was about to pull 
me away from the table, but I was in the highest degree 
excited, and so I seized the leg of the table, and upset it. 

« There you have it!” and all the porcelain and crystal 
ornaments fell to the ground with a crash. 

“ Disgusting urchin!” cried Volédya, trying to catch 
the falling objects. 

“ Well, now everything is ended between us,” thought 
J, as I left the room. “We shall be enemies from 
now on.” 

We did not speak with each other until evening. I 
felt I was guilty, was afraid to look at him, and could 
not do a thing all day; Volddya, on the contrary, studied 
well, and, as usual, chatted and laughed with the girls 
after dinner. 

The moment our teacher was through with our lesson, 
I left the room, for I felt ill at ease, awkward, and 
ashamed in the presence of my brother. After our even- 
ing lesson in history, I took my copy-books and started 


MY ELDER BROTHER 165 


for the door. When I passed by Voldédya, I felt at heart 
like going to him and making up with him, but I pouted 
and tried to look angry. Voldédya just happened to raise 
his head, and he looked at me with a barely noticeable, 
open-hearted, derisive smile. Our eyes met, and I knew 
that he understood me, and that he understood that I 
knew that he understood, but some irresistible feeling 
made me turn away. 

“ Nikélenka!” he said to me in the simplest, not in the 
least pathetic voice, “stop pouting. Pardon me, if I have 
offended you.” 

And he gave me his hand. 

I felt as if something was rising in my throat and 
choking me; but that lasted only a minute; tears rolled 
down my eyes, and I felt better. 

“ For—give — me — Vol—dya!” said I, pressing his 
hand. 

Volédya looked at me as though he could not under- 
stand why the tears were in my eyes. 


VI. 
MASHA 


Nort one of the changes which had taken place, in my 
view of things, was so striking, so far as I myself was 
concerned, as the one by which I ceased to see in one of 
our chambermaids merely a female servant, and began to 
see, instead, a woman, on whom, in a certain degree, my 
peace and happiness might depend. As far back as I can 
remember myself, I remember Masha in our house, but 
never had I paid the slightest attention to her, before 
the incident had taken place which completely changed 
my view of her, and which I shall now relate. Masha 
was about twenty-five years old, when I was fourteen. 
She was very pretty, but I am afraid to describe her, lest 
my imagination should reproduce the enchanting and de- 
ceptive image which formed itself during my passion. 
Not to make any mistake, I shall only say that she 
was uncommonly white, voluptuously developed, and a 
woman, —and I was fourteen years old. 

In one of those moments, when with lesson in hand 
one paces up and down the room, trying to step only on 
the cracks between the deals, or sings some senseless air, 
or smears ink over the edges of the table, or repeats some 
meaningless words, — in short, in one of those moments, 
when the mind refuses to work, and the imagination is 
uppermost and seeks impressions, I left the class-room 
and aimlessly went to the landing of the stairs. 


Somebody was ascending the stairs in shoes, at the 
166 


MASHA | 167 


lower turn of the staircase. Of course, I wanted to know 
who it was, but suddenly the noise of the steps died 
down, and I heard Masha’s voice: “ Please don’t! Stop 
your nonsense! If Marya Ivdnovna should come upon 
you, it would go ill with you!” 

“She will not come,” I heard Volddya’s voice in a 
whisper, and right after something rustled, as if Volédya 
were trying to hold her back. 

“Where are you putting your hand? For shame!” 
and Masha, with her kerchief awry on her head, display- 
ing her full white neck, rushed by me. 

I can’t explain how this discovery surprised me; but 
the feeling of surprise soon gave way to the feeling of 
sympathy for Volddya’s act. I did not so much marvel 
at his deed, as at his conclusion that it was agreeable to 
act thus. I involuntarily wanted to imitate him. 

I often passed hours at a time upon the landing of the 
staircase, listening with the closest attention to the 
slightest movements above me; but I could never bring 
myself to imitate Volddya, though I wished to do that 
more than anything else in the world. At times I hid 
behind the door, and with a heavy feeling of envy and 
Jealousy listened to the disturbance in the maids’ room, 
and I wondered what my situation would be if I walked 
up-stairs and tried to kiss Masha, just as Volédya had 
done. What should I have said with my broad nose 
and towering tufts of hair, if she had asked me what I 
wanted there? At times I heard Masha speaking to 
Volddya: 

“This is a true punishment! Why do you annoy me 
so much! Go away from here, naughty boy. Why does 
Nikolay Petrévich never come here, and bother me ?” 

She did not know that Nikolay Petrévich was at that 
moment sitting under the staircase, and that he would 
gladly have given everything in the world, if he could 
be in the place of naughty Volddya. 


168 BOYHOOD 


I was bashful by nature, and my bashfulness only 
increased my conviction that I was homely. I am con- 
vinced that nothing has such a telling influence upon the 
direction of a man’s life as his looks, and not so much 
his looks as his conviction of their attractiveness or 
unattractiveness. 

I was too egoistic to get used to my situation, and 
tried to convince myself, like the fox, that the grapes 
were yet too green; that is, I tried to despise all the 
pleasures which are brought about by a pleasant counte- 
nance, such as, in my opinion, Volédya enjoyed, and 
such as I envied with all my heart, and I exerted all 
the powers of mind and imagination to find pleasure 
in haughty solitude. 


VIE 
SHOT 


“QO Lorp, powder!” cried out Mimi, in a voice of 
breathless agitation. “What are you doing? You want 
to burn the house, and to ruin us all —” 

And Mimi ordered, with an indescribable expression of 
fortitude, all persons present to step aside, strutted with 
firm steps up to the scattered shot, and, despising all 
danger which might be produced from a sudden explo- 
sion, began to tramp it with her feet. When the dan- 
ger, in her opinion, was passed, she called Mikhéy and 
ordered him to throw all that “powder” as far away 
as possible, or, better still, into the water, and, proudly 
shaking her cap, directed her steps to the drawing- 
room. “They are watching them well, I must say,” 
she grumbled. 

When papa came from the wing, and we went together 
to grandmother, Mimi was already sitting in the room 
near the window, and sternly looked beyond the door 
with a certain mysterious and official glance. In her 
hand was something wrapped in several folds of paper. 
I guessed that it was the shot, and that grandmother, no 
doubt, knew everything. 

Besides Mimi, there were in grandmother’s room cham- 
bermaid Gdsha, who, to judge from her angry red face, 
was greatly agitated, and Doctor Blumenthal, a small, 


pockmarked man, who was trying in vain to quiet 
169 


170 BOYHOOD 


Gdsha, by making with his eyes and head some mysteri- 
ous, pacifying signs to her. 

Grandmother herself was sitting a little to one side, 
and was laying out a solitaire, a “Traveller,” which 
always signified a very inauspicious frame of mind. 

“How are you feeling to-day, mamma? Have you 
rested well?” asked papa, respectfully kissing her hand. 

“Nicely, my dear. I think you know that I am 
always well,” answered grandmother, in a tone which 
indicated that the question was very much out of place 
and offensive. “Well, are you going to give me a clean 
handkerchief?” she continued, turning to Gdsha. 

“JT have handed it to you,” answered Gdsha, pointing 
to a snow-white batiste handkerchief, which was lying on 
the arm of the chair. 

“Take away this dirty rag, and give me a clean hand- 
kerchief, my dear!” 

Gdsha walked up to the chiffonier, pulled out a drawer, 
and slammed it so hard that the windows of the room 
began to rattle. Grandmother looked sternly at all of us, 
and continued to watch all the movements of the cham- 
bermaid. When she handed to her, as it seemed to 
me, the same handkerchief, grandmother said: 

“ And when are you going to crush some snuff for me, 
my dear?” 

“JT will crush it, if I have time.” 

« What did you say ?” 

“J will crush it to-day.” 

“Tf you do not wish to serve with me, my dear, you 
ought to say so; I should have let you off long ago.” 

“You may let me off; I sha’n’t cry,” grumbled the 
chambermaid, half aloud. 

Just then the doctor began to beckon to her, but she 
looked at him so angrily and firmly, that he immediately 
dropped his head, and busied himself with his watch-key. 

“You see, my dear,’ said grandmother, turning to 


SHOT A ty | 


papa, when Gasha, continuing to grumble, left the room, 
“how they treat me in my own house?” 

“ Permit me, mamma, I shall crush some snuff for you, 
myself,” said papa, who, evidently, was much perplexed 
by this unexpected behaviour. 

“No, thank you: she is so impudent because she 
knows that no one else knows so well how to crush the 
snuff as I like it. You know, my dear,” continued grand- 
mother, after a moment’s silence, “that your children 
came very near burning the house to-day ?” 

Papa looked with respectful curiosity at grandmother. 

“Yes, that is what they are playing with Show it 
to him,” she said, turning to Mimi. 

Papa took the shot in his hand, and could not help 
smiling. 

“But this is shot,” he said, “and it is not at all 
dangerous.” 

“Thank you, my dear, for instructing me, only I am 
a little too old —” 

“ Nerves, nerves!” whispered the doctor. 

And papa forthwith turned to us: 

“Where did you get it? and how dare you play with 
such things ?” 

“You do not have to ask them, but you had better 
ask the valet,” said grandmother, pronouncing the word 
“valet” with especial contempt. “That is the way he is 
watching.” 

“V6éldemar said that Karl Ivdnovich himself had 
given him this powder,” Mimi hastened to add. 

«Now, you see what a fine man he is,’ continued 
grandmother. “And where is he, that valet, what do 
you call him? Send for him!” 

“T have given him permission to make some visits,” 
said papa. 

“That is no reason. He ought always to be here. 
The children are not mine, but yours, and I have no 


172 BOYHOOD 


right to advise you, because you are wiser than I,” con- 
tinued grandmother, “but it seems to me, it is time to 
get a tutor for them, and not a valet, a German churl. 
Yes, a stupid churl who can’t teach them anything but 
bad manners and Tyrolese songs. I ask you, what need 
have your children to know how to sing Tyrolese songs ? 
However, now there is nobody to think of these things, 
and you may do as you please.” 

The word “now” meant “since they have no mother,” 
and it called forth sad memories in grandmother’s heart. 
She lowered her eyes upon the snuff-box with a portrait 
upon it, and fell to musing. 

“JT have been thinking of it for quite awhile,” papa 
hastened to say, “and had intended to take counsel with 
you, mamma. Had I not better propose the place to St. 
Jér6me, who has been giving them hour lessons ?”’ 

“ You will do well, my dear,’ said grandmother, no 
longer in the dissatisfied voice in which she had been 
speaking. “St. Jéréme is at least a tutor, who will know 
how to manage des enfants de bonne maison, and not an 
ordinary ménin valet, who is only good to take them out 
for an airing.” 

“T will speak to him to-morrow,” said papa. 

Two days after this conversation, Karl Ivdnovich really 
gave up his place to the young French dandy. 


OEE 
THE HISTORY OF KARL IVANOVICH 


LATE in the evening preceding the day when Karl 
Iv4novich was for ever to leave us, he stood in his wadded 
gown and red cap near his bed and, bending over his 
portmanteau, packed his things with great care. 

Toward the end Karl Ivdnovich’s behaviour to us was 
exceedingly formal; he seemed to avoid all relations with 
us. Even now, when I entered the room, he looked at 
me askance, and again betook himself to his work. I lay 
down on my bed, and Karl Ivanovich, who formerly used 
to forbid it, said not a word to me, and the thought that 
he no longer would scold us, nor stop us, and that he had 
no business with us, vividly reminded me of the impend- 
ing separation. I felt sad because he no longer loved us, 
and I wished to express this feeling to him. 

« Permit me to help you, Karl Ivdnovich,” I said, ap- 
proaching him. 

He looked at me and again turned away, but in the 
cursory glance which he cast upon me I read not indif- 
ference, by which I explained his coldness, but genuine 
and concentrated sorrow. 

“God sees everything and knows everything, and His 
holy will is in everything,” he said, straightening himself 
out the full length of his stature, and drawing a deep 
breath. “Yes, Nikdélenka,” he continued, when he no- 
ticed the expression of sincere sympathy with which I 


was looking at him, “it has been my fate to be unhappy 
173 


174 BOYHOOD 


from my earliest childhood to my grave. I have always 
been paid with evil for the good which I have done 
people, and my reward is not here, but there,” he said, 
pointing to heaven. “If you knew my history and all I 
have suffered in this life! I was a shoemaker, I was a 
soldier, I was a deserter, I was a manufacturer, I was a 
teacher, and now I am zero, and I have, like the Son of 
God, no place where to lay my head,” he concluded and, 
closing his eyes, dropped down into his chair. 

Noticing that Karl Ivanovich was in that sentimental 
frame of mind when he paid no attention to his hearers 
and expressed his secret thoughts to himself, I seated 
myself on my bed, and in silence fixed my eyes on his 
good face. 

«You are not a child, you can understand! I shall 
tell you my history and all I have suffered in this 
life. Some day you will think of your old friend who 
loved you children very much!” 

Karl Ivanovich leaned with his arm against the small 
table which was standing near him, took a pinch of snuff, 
and, rolling his eyes to heaven, began his story in that 
peculiar, even, guttural voice, in which he generally dic- 
tated to us: 

“TI vos unhappy even in de lap of my moder. Das 
Ungliick verfolgte mich schon vm Schosse meiner Mutter !” 
he repeated with greater feeling. 

Since Karl Ivanovich told me his history often after- 
ward, following the same order, and using the same ex- 
pressions and ever unchanged intonations, I hope I shall 
be able to render it almost word for word, except, of 
course, for the irregularities of language, of which the 
reader may judge by the first sentence. I have not yet 
decided whether it was his real history, or the production 
of his fancy, which originated during his lonely life in our 
house, and which he had himself come to believe from 
his frequent repetitions, or whether he had adorned the 


THE HISTORY OF KARL IVANOVICH yas 


actual facts of his life with fantastic incidents. On the 
one hand, he told his history with too much feeling and 
methodical consistency, which form the chief character- 
istics of verisimilitude, not to be believed; on the other 
hand, there were too many poetical beauties in his history, 
so that these very beauties provoked doubt. 

«Through my veins courses the noble blood of the 
Counts of Sommerblatt! Jn meinen Adern fliesst das edle 
Blut der Grafen von Sommerblatt! I was born six 
weeks after the wedding. The husband of my mother (I 
called him father) was a tenant at Count von Sommer- 
blatt’s. He could not forget my mother’s shame, and did 
not like me. I had a smaller brother, Johann, and two 
sisters ; but I was a stranger in my own family! Ich 
war etn Fremder in meiner eigenen Familie! When Jo- 
hann did anything naughty, father said: ‘I shall not have 
a moment of peace with this child Karl!’ and I was 
scolded and punished. When my sisters quarrelled, father 
said: ‘ Karl will never be an obedient child!’ and I was 
scolded and punished. Only my good mother loved and 
petted me. She frequently said to me,‘ Karl, come here, 
into my room!’ and she softly kissed me. ‘Poor, poor 
Karl, she said, ‘nobody loves you, but I would not ex- 
change you for anybody. Your mother asks only this of 
you, she said to me, ‘study well, and be always an 
honest man, and God will not abandon you!’ ‘ T7rachte 
nur ein ehrlicher Deutscher zu werden, sagte sie, ‘und der 
liebe Gott wird dich nicht verlassen!’ And I tried. 

“ When I was fourteen years old, and I could go to con- 
firmation, mother said to father: ‘Karl is now a grown- 
up boy, Gustav. What are we going to do with him?’ 
And father said: ‘I do not know. Then mother said: 
‘We shall take him to town to Mr. Schulz, so he may be- 
come a shoemaker!’ and father said: ‘All right!’ wnd 
mein Vater sagte: ‘Gut!’ I lived six years and seven 
months in town with my master, the shoemaker, and my 


176 BOYHOOD 


master loved me. He said: ‘Karl is a good workman, 
and he will soon be my Geselle !’ but man proposes, and 
God disposes. In 1796 a general conscription was an- 
nounced, and everybody who could serve, from eighteen 
years of age to twenty-one, was to appear in town. 

“Father and brother Johann arrived in town, and we 
all went together to cast a Zoos, who was to be Soldat, 
and who was not to be Soldat. Johann drew a bad 
number, — he was to be Soldat ; I drew a good number, 
—I was not to be Soldat. And father said: ‘I had an 
only son, and I have to part from him!’ ‘Ich hatte einen 
ernzigen Sohn, und von diesem muss ich mich trennen !’ 

“T took his hand and said: ‘Why do you say so, 
father? Come with me, and I will tell you something.’ 
And father went. Father went, and we seated ourselves 
in the inn at a small table. ‘Give us two Bierkrug!’ 
I said, and they brought them to us. We drank a glass 
each, and brother Johann drank also. 

“<Father!’ I said, ‘do not say that you had an only 
son, and that you have to part from him! My heart 
wants to jump out, when I hear this. Brother Johann 
shall not serve, —JI will be Soldat. Karl is of no use 
here to anybody, and Karl will be Soldat.’ 

“<You are an honest man, Karl Ivanovich!’ said 
father to me and kissed me. ‘ Du bist ein braver Bursche !’ 
sagte mir mein Vater und kiisste mich ! 

“ And I became Soldat.” 


IX. 
CONTINUATION 


“THEN was a terrible time, Nikdlenka,” continued 
Karl Ivdnovich,— “then was Napoleon. He wanted to 
conquer Germany, and we defended our country to our 
last drop of blood! und wir vertheidigten unser Vaterland 
bis auf den letzten Tropfen Blut ! 

“Twas at Ulm, I was at Austerlitz! I was at Wagram! 
Ich war bet Wagram !” 

“Did you yourself take part in the battles?” I asked 
him, looking at him in wonderment. “Did you kill 
people yourself?” 

Karl Ivanovich soon quieted me in regard to this. 

“Once a French Grenadier lagged behind his own, and 
fell down on the road. I ran up to him with my gun, 
and wanted to pierce him, aber der Franzose warf sein 
Gewehr und rief Pardon, and I let him alone! 

“At Wagram Napoleon drove us to an island, and 
surrounded us so that it was impossible to escape. We 
had no provision for three days, and we stood up to our 
knees in water. Miscreant Napoleon neither took us 
prisoners, nor let us get away! wnd der Bésewicht Napo- 
leon wollte uns nicht gefangen nehmen und auch nicht 
Sreilassen ! 

“On the fourth day, thank the Lord, we were taken 
prisoners, and were led into a fortress. JI had my blue 
pantaloons, a uniform of good cloth, fifteen thalers of 


money and a silver watch, a present from my father. 
177 


178 BOYHOOD 


A French Soldat took it all away from me. Fortunately 
I had three ducats which mother had sewed up under my 
jacket. Nobody found them! 

“T did not wish to stay long in the fortress, and so I 
decided to run. Once, upon a great holiday, I said to the 
sergeant who was watching us: ‘ Mr. Sergeant, to-day is 
a great holiday, and I want to celebrate it. Bring me, 
if you please, a bottle of Madeira, and we will drink it 
together. And the sergeant said ‘All right!’ When 
the sergeant brought the Madeira, and we had drunk a 
wine-glass full, I took his hand, and said: ‘ Mr. Sergeant, 
you probably have a father and a mother, too.’ He said: 
‘I have, Mr. Mauer. ‘My parents, I said, ‘have not 
seen me for eight years, and they do not know whether I 
am alive, or whether my bones have long been lying in 
the damp earth. O Mr. Sergeant! I have two ducats 
that were under my jacket, — take them, and let me off! 
Be my benefactor, and my mother will pray to the Al- 
mighty for you all her life.’ 

“ The sergeant drank a glass of Madeira and said: ‘ Mr. 
Mauer, I love you and pity you very much, only you are 
a captive, and I am a Soldat!’ I pressed his hand and 
said: ‘Mr. Sergeant!’ Jch driickte thm die Hand und 
sagte: ‘Herr Serjant !’ 

«And the sergeant said: ‘You are a poor man, and 
I will not take your money, but I will help you. When I 
go to bed, buy a pail of brandy for the Soldat, and they 
will sleep. I will not see you.’ 

“He was a good man. I bought a pail of brandy, and 
when the Soldat were drunk, I put on my boots and an 
old cloak, and went softly out into the yard. I went on 
the rampart, and wanted to jump, but there was water 
below, and I did not want to spoil my last garment. I 
went to the gate. 

“A sentinel was going auf und ab with his gun, and 
he looked at me: ‘ Qui vive ?’ sagte er auf ein Mal, and I 


CONTINUATION 179 


was silent. ‘Qui vive?’ sagte er zum zweiten Mal, and 
I was silent. ‘Qui vive?’ sagte er zum dritten Mal, 
and Iran. I jumped into the water, climbed up the other 
side, and ran. Jch sprang in’s Wasser, kletterte auf die 
andere Seite und machte mich aus dem Staube. 

“The whole night I ran along the road, but when it 
dawned, I was afraid I should be recognized, so I hid 
myself in the high rye. There I knelt, folded my hands, 
thanked the Heavenly Father for my salvation, and fell 
asleep with a peaceful feeling. Jch dankte dem Allmdch- 
tigen Gott fiir seine Barmherzigkeit und mit beruhigtem 
Gefihl schlief ich ein. 

“I awoke in the evening and walked on. Suddenly a 
large German wagon with two black horses overtook me. 
In the wagon sat a well-dressed man, who smoked a pipe 
and looked at me. I went slower, to let the wagon get 
by me; but as I went slowly, so did the wagon, and the 
man looked at me. I went faster, and the wagon went 
faster, and the man looked at me. I sat down near the 
road; the man stopped his horses, and looked at me. 
‘Young man,’ he said, ‘whither are you going so late?’ 
I said: ‘I am going to Frankfurt.’ ‘Get into my wagon, 
there is a place here, and I will take you there. Why 
have you nothing with you, why is your beard not shaven, 
and why are all your clothes dirty ?’ said he to me, when 
I took my seat. ‘I am a poor man, I said, ‘and I want 
to find some place in a factory; and my garments are 
dirty because I fell down on the road.’ ‘You are not 
telling the truth, young man,’ he said, ‘the roads are dry 
now. 

« And I was silent. 

««Tell me the whole truth, said the good man to me, 
‘who you are, and whence you are coming! I like your 
face, and, if you are an honest man, I will help you.’ 

«And I told him everything. He said: ‘ All right, 
young man, come with me to my rope factory. I will 


180 BOYHOOD 


give you work, clothes, and money, and you shall live 
with me.’ 

“« And I said: <All right!’ 

“We came to the rope factory, and the good man said 
to his wife: ‘ Here isa young man who has fought for his 
country and has run away from captivity. He has no 
home nor clothes nor bread. He will live with me. 
Give him clean linen and feed him.’ 

“JT lived for a year and a half in the rope factory, and 
my master liked me so much that he did not wish to let 
me go. And I was happy there. I was then a hand- 
some man: I was young, tall, had blue eyes, and a Roman 
nose, and Madame L—— (I cannot tell you her name), 
the wife of my master, was a young, beautiful lady. And 
she fell in love with me. 

“When she saw me, she said: ‘Mr. Mauer, how does 
your mother call you?’ I said: ‘ Karlchen, 

« And she said, ‘ Karlchen, sit down by my side!’ 

«“T sat down beside her, and she said: ‘ Karlchen, kiss 
me!’ 

“JT kissed her, and she said: ‘Karlchen, I love you so 
much that I can’t stand it any longer, and she began to 
tremble.” 

Here Karl Ivdnovich made a protracted pause and, 
rolling his good blue eyes and lightly shaking his head, 
smiled, as people always smile under the influence of 
agreeable reminiscences. 

« Yes,” he began once more, fixing himself in his chair, 
and wrapping his gown about him, “I have experienced 
many good and bad things in my life, but here is my 
witness,” he said, pointing to an image of the Saviour, 
embroidered on canvas, which hung over his bed, “ no- 
body can say that Karl Ivdnovich is a dishonest man! I 
did not wish to repay by black ingratitude the good which 
Mr. L had done me, and I decided to run away. In 
the evening, when all were asleep, I wrote a letter to my 





CONTINUATION 181 


master which I placed on the table in my room; then I 
took my clothes and three thalers of money, and softly 


went into the street. Nobody saw me, and I walked 
along the road.” 


x 
CONTINUATION 


“T HAD not seen my mother for nine years, and I did 
not know whether she was alive, or whether her bones 
were already resting in the damp earth. I went to my 
native home. When I came to the town, I asked where 
Gustav Mauer lived, who had been a tenant at Count von 
Sommerblatt’s. And they said to me: ‘Count von Som- 
merblatt has died, and Gustav Mauer is living now on the 
wide street, and keeping a store for liqueurs.’ I put on my 
new waistcoat, a good coat,—a present from the manu- 
facturer, — fixed my hair nicely, and went to my father’s 
liquor store. Sister Mariechen was sitting there, and 
asked me what I wanted. I said: ‘May I drink a glass 
of liqueur?’ and she said: ‘ Vater, a young man is asking 
for a glass of liqueur. And father said: ‘Give the young 
man a glass of liqueur!’ I sat down at the table, drank 
my glass, smoked a pipe, and looked at father, at Marie- 
chen, and at Johann, who had also come into the store. 
In our conversation father said to me: ‘ You, no doubt, 
know where our Armee is stationed now!’ I said: ‘I 
myself have come from the Armee, and it is stationed at 
Wren. ‘Our son,’ said father, ‘was a Soldat, and now 
he has not written to us for nine years, and we do not 
know whether he is alive or dead. My wife always 
weeps for him.’ I smoked my pipe and said: ‘ What was 
the name of your son, and where did he serve? Maybe 


I know him.’ ‘His name is Karl Mauer, and he served 
182 


CONTINUATION 183 


with the Austrian chasseurs, said my father. ‘He is 
tall and a fine-looking man, just like you, said sister 
Mariechen. I said: ‘I know your Karl’ ‘Amalia !’ sagte 
auf enmal mein Vater,‘ come here! Here is a young man 
who knows our Karl.’ Ant my dear moder comes out 
from the back door. I at once knew her. ‘You know 
our Karl, and she looks at me, and is all pale and 
trembles! ‘Yes, I have seen him, I said, and did not 
dare to raise my eyes to her: my heart wanted to break. 
‘My Karl is alive!’ said mother. ‘The Lord be thanked. 
Where is he, my dear Karl? I could die in peace, if I 
could look once more upon him, upon my beloved son; 
but God does not wish it, and she burst out into tears. I 
could not stand it any longer. ‘Mother!’ I said, ‘I am 
your Karl, and she fell into my arms.” 

Karl Ivanovich covered his eyes, and his lips trembled. 

“<« Mutter!’ sagte wh, ‘ich bin ihr Sohn, ich bin thr 
Karl!’ und sie stiirzte mir in die Arme,” he repeated, after 
quieting down and wiping off the tears which rolled down 
his cheeks. 

“ But it did not please God that I should end my days 
in my native country. A misfortune was decreed for me! 
Das Ungliick verfolgte mich itiberall! I lived in my 
home only three months. One Sunday I was in a coffee- 
house, where I ordered a mug of beer, smoked my pipe, 
and chatted with my acquaintances about Politik, about 
Emperor Franz, about Napoleon, and about the war, and 
everybody expressed his opinion. Near us sat a strange 
gentleman in a gray Ueberrock, who drank coffee, smoked a 
pipe, and did not speak with us. Hr rauchte sein Pfeifchen 
und shwieg still. When the Nachtwdchter called the 
tenth hour, I took my hat, paid my bill, and went home. 
At midnight somebody knocked at our door. I awoke 
and said: ‘Who is there?’ ‘Macht auf!’ I said: ‘Say 
who you are, and I will open.’ Jch sagte: ‘Sagt wer ihr 
seid, und ich werde aufmachen. ‘Macht auf im Namen 


184 BOYHOOD 


des Gesetzes!’ somebody said at the door. I opened. 
Two Soldat with guns stood at the door, and into the 
room entered the strange man in the gray Ueberrock, who 
had been sitting near us in the coffee-house. He was a 
spy! Es war ein Spion! ‘Come with me!’ said the 
spy. ‘Allright!’ said I. I put on my boots and panta- 
loons, and my suspenders, and walked up and down the 
room. My blood boiled. I said to myself, he was a 
scoundrel. When I walked up to the wall where my 
sword was hanging, I grabbed it suddenly and said: 
‘You are a spy, defend yourself!’ ‘Dw bist ein Spion, 
vertherdige dich!’ Ich gab einen Hieb to the right, einen 
Heb to the left, and one upon his head. The spy 
fell! I seized my portmanteau and money, and jumped 
out of the window. Jch nahm meinen Mantelsack und 
Beutel und sprang zum Fenster hinaus. Ich kam nach 
Ems. There I became acquainted with General Zazin. 
He took a fancy to me, got a passport for me from 
the ambassador, and took me with him to Russia to 
teach his children. When General Zazin died, your 
mother employed me. She said: ‘Karl Ivanovich! I 
give my children to you, and I shall never abandon you; 
I shall assure you an easy old age.’ Now she is no more, 
and everything is forgotten. In return for the twenty 
years of my service I have to go now into the street, old 
as I am, to find a crust of dry bread. (ot sees dat, and 
knows dat, and for dat 1s His holy will —only I am 
sorry for you, my childers!” concluded Karl Ivanovich, 
drawing me to him and kissing my head. 


XI. 
ONE! 


AFTER a year’s mourning, grandmother had a little 
recovered from the grief which had struck her down, and 
she began now and then to receive guests, especially girls 
and boys who were of our age. 

On the 13th of December, Lytibochka’s birthday, 
there came even before dinner Princess Korndkov with 
her daughters, Madame Valékhin with Sénichka, Ilinka 
Grap, and the two younger brothers of the Ivins. 

The sound of conversation, laughter, and running about 
reached us from below, where the whole company had 
gathered, but we could not join them before the end of 
the morning classes. On the schedule which hung in the 
class-room it said: Lund, de 2 & 3, maitre @histoire et de 
géographie; and it was this mattre @histoire whom we 
had to wait for, listen to, and see off, before we could be 
free. It was already twenty minutes past two, but the 
teacher of history had not yet arrived, nor could he be 
heard or seen in the street, over which he had to pass to 
reach us, and upon which I was looking with a strong 
desire not to see him. 

« Apparently Lébedev is not coming to-day,” said Volé- 
dya, raising his eyes for a moment from Smardgdov’s text- 
book, from which he was preparing his lesson. 

“ May the Lord grant it be so, for I do not know a thing 


1 One is the lowest, and five the highest mark in Russian schools. 
185 


186 BOYHOOD 


about the lesson—- However, however, here he comes,” 
I added, in a sad voice. 

Volédya rose from his seat and went up to the 
window. 

“No, that is not he, that is some gentleman,” said he. 
“We shall wait until half-past two,” he added, stretching 
himself and at the same time scratching his crown, as he 
was in the habit of doing whenever he rested for a minute 
from his work. “If he is not here by half-past two, we 
shall tell St. Jéréme to pick up the copy-books.” 

“What does he want to be coming for?” I said, also 
stretching myself and shaking over my head the book of 
Kaydanov, which I held in both my hands. 

Having nothing to do, I opened the book where the 
lesson was, and began to read it. It was a long and hard 
lesson; I did not know a thing about it, and I saw that I 
should never have enough time to learn a thing, especially 
since I was in that nervous condition when the thoughts 
refuse to centre on any subject whatsoever. 

Lébedev had complained about me to St. Jérdme for my 
previous lesson in history, a subject which had always 
seemed to me tiresome and hard, and he had written down 
in the book in which the marks were kept, number two, 
which was regarded as very bad. St. Jéréme told me 
then, that if I should get less than three at the next les- 
son, I should be punished severely. This next lesson was 
before me and, I confess, I trembled. 

I had been so absorbed in the reading of the unfamiliar 
lesson that I was startled by the noise of taking off over- 
shoes, which was heard in the antechamber. I had not 
had any time to look around, when in the door appeared 
the pockmarked, despised face and the familiar, awkward 
figure of the teacher, in his buttoned blue dress coat with 
the buttons of the learned profession. , 

The teacher slowly put his hat on the window, and his 
note-books on the table, with both his hands spread the 


ONE 187 


folds of his coat, as though this was absolutely necessary, 
and, puffing, sat down in his chair. 

“Well, gentlemen,” he said, rubbing his clammy hands 
against each other, “first we shall go over what was said 
in the previous lesson, and then I shall try to acquaint 
you with the next events of the Middle Ages.” 

This meant: Recite your lesson. 

While Volédya answered him with a freedom and self- 
assurance peculiar to those who know their subject well, 
I, without any aim whatsoever, went out on the staircase, 
and, since it was not possible to go down-stairs, I quite 
naturally walked up to the landing. I had just intended 
to settle in my usual place of observation, when Mimi, 
who always was the cause of my misfortunes, suddenly 
bumped against me. “ You are here?” she said, looking 
threateningly at me, then at the door of the maids’ room, 
and then again at me. 

I felt myself thoroughly guilty, both because I was not 
at the lesson, and because I found myself in such an im- 
proper place, so I kept silent and, lowering my head, pre- 
sented a most pathetic picture of repentance. 

“No, that passes all bounds!” said Mimi. “ What 
were you doing here?” I kept silent. “No, that can’t 
remain this way!” she repeated, striking the knuckles of 
her fingers against the balustrade of the staircase, “ I shall 
tell everything to the countess.” 

It was five minutes to three, when I returned to the 
schoolroom. The teacher, acting as though he had not 
noticed my absence nor my presence, was explaining the 
next lesson to Volddya. When, after having finished his 
explanations, he began to fold up his note-books, and Volé- 
dya went into the other room to bring him his ticket, the 
joyful thought struck me that it was all over, and that I 
was forgotten. 

But suddenly the teacher turned to me with a mischie- 
vous half-smile. 


188 BOYHOOD 


“T hope that you have learned your lesson, sir,” he said, 
rubbing his hands. 

“T have, sir,” I answered. 

« Will you take the trouble to tell me something about 
the crusade of St. Louis?” he said, swaying in his chair, 
and pensively looking between his legs. “ You will first 
tell me about the reason which caused the French king to 
take up the cross,” he said, raising his eyebrows and point- 
ing his finger to the inkstand, “then explain to me the 
general characteristic features of that crusade,” he added, 
moving his whole wrist as if he wanted to catch some- 
thing, “and finally, the effect of that crusade upon the 
European countries in general,” he said, striking the left 
part of the table with his note-books, “upon the French 
realm in particular,” he concluded, striking the right side 
of the table, and bending his head to the right. 

I swallowed several times, hemmed and hawed, bent 
my head to one side, and kept silent. Then I picked up 
a goose-quill which was lying on the table, and began to 
tear it to pieces, but I kept silent all the time. 

“ Let me have the pen,” said the teacher to me, stretch- 
ing out his hand. “It could be used yet. Well, sir?” 

“ Louis — Kar — Louis the Holy was — was — was — 
a good and wise Tsar —” 

What, sir? > 

“Tsar. He had got it into his head to go to Jeru- 
salem, and he transferred the reins of government to his 
mother.” 

“ What was her name?” 

“ B— b — lanka.” 

“What? Buldnka?”! 

I smiled a sinister and awkward smile. 

“ Well, sir, is there anything else you know?” he said, 
smiling. 

I had nothing to lose, so I coughed and began to tell 


1 Name of a dun horse. 


ONE 189 


anything that occurred to me. The teacher did not 
say anything, and only swept off the dust from the table 
with the pen which he had taken away from me; he 
stared somewhere beyond my ear, and now and then 
exclaimed : “ Very well, sir, very well, sir.” I felt that I 
did not know a thing, that I did not express myself as 
I ought to, and I was very much pained because my 
teacher did not stop me, or correct me. 

«Why did he get it into his head to go to Jerusalem ?” 
said the teacher, repeating my own words. 

« Because — on account of — since —in as much 
as—” 

I was completely floored, did not say another word, and 
felt that if that rascal of a teacher were to be silent for a 
whole year and looking interrogatively at me all the 
time, I should not be able to utter another sound. The 
teacher looked at me for about three minutes, then his 
face suddenly manifested an expression of profound grief, 
and, in a pathetic voice, he said to Volédya who had just 
entered the room: 

“ Please let me have the book for the marks!” 

Volédya gave him the book, and gently placed a ticket 
near it. 

The teacher opened the book and, carefully dipping the 
pen, in a beautiful hand marked Voléddya number five in 
the columns for progress and deportment. Then, resting 
the pen over the line where my marks were to be put 
down, he glanced at me, shook off the ink, and thought 
awhile. 

Suddenly his hand made a scarcely perceptible motion, 
and in the column appeared a beautifully written number 
one, with a period after it; another motion, and in the 
column for deportment went down another number one, 
with a period after it. 

Carefully folding the book with the marks, the teacher 
rose and walked to the door, as though he had not noticed 


190 BOYHOOD 


my glance, in which were expressed despair, supplication, 
and reproach. 

“ Mikhafl Laridnovich!” said I. 

“No,” he answered, guessing what I intended to tell 
him, “you can’t study that way. I will not take money 
for nothing.” 

The teacher put on his overshoes and camlet overcoat, 
and carefully wrapped himself in a shawl. As if one 
could think of anything, after what had happened to me! 
For him it was but a movement of the pen, but for me 
it was my greatest misfortune. 

“Ts the lesson over?” asked St. Jéréme, as he entered 
the room. 

aVies” 

“Was the teacher satisfied with you ?” 

“Yes,” said Volédya. 

“What did you get?” 

« Five.” 

“ And Nicolas ?” 

I was silent. 

“T think, four,” said Voldédya. 

He knew I had to be saved, if only for to-day. Let 
them punish me, as long as it was not to-day, when guests 
were at the house. 

“ Voyons, messieurs!” (St. JérOme was in the habit of 
saying voyons! to everything.) “Faites votre toilette et 
descendons !” 


XII. 
THE SMALL KEY 


WE had barely greeted the guests, upon coming down- 
stairs, when we were called to table. Papa was in a very 
happy frame of mind (he had been winning of late); he 
had presented Lytibochka with a costly silver tea service, 
and at dinner he remembered that he had left a bonbon- 
niére for her in his room in the wing. 

«What is the use sending a servant there? You had 
better go there yourself, Koké!” he said to me. “The 
keys are in the shell on the large table, you know. So 
take them, and with the largest key open the second 
drawer at the right. There you will find the candy box. 
The candy is in paper; bring it here!” 

« And shall I bring you any cigars?” I asked, knowing 
that he always sent for them after dinner. 

«Bring some, only don’t touch anything; you hear?” 
he said, as I went out. 

I found the keys in the place indicated, and was on the 
point of opening the drawer, when I was arrested by 
the desire of finding out what thing the tiny key of the 
bunch could open. 

On the table stood, against a small railing, among a 
thousand different things, a hand-sewn portfolio with 
a padlock, and I was dying to find out whether the small 
key would fit in it. My effort was rewarded with com- 
plete success, the portfolio was opened, and inside I found 
a whole stack of papers. My feeling of curiosity so per- 

191 


192 BOYHOOD 


suasively compelled me to find out what kind of papers 
they were, that I was not able to listen to the voice of my 
conscience, and began to examine what was in the portfolio. 

The childish feeling of unconditional respect for older 
people, especially for papa, was so strong in me, that my 
mind unconsciously refused to draw any conclusions from 
what I saw. I felt that papa was living in an entirely 
separate, beautiful, inapproachable, and incomprehensible 
sphere, and that it would be a kind of sacrilege for me to 
try to penetrate the secrets of his life. 

For this reason the discoveries which I had made, 
almost by accident, in papa’s portfolio did not leave any 
clear idea with me, except a dim consciousness of having 
done something bad. I felt ashamed and ill at ease. 

Under the influence of this feeling I wanted to close 
the portfolio as quickly as possible, but I was evidently 
fated to experience all kinds of misfortunes upon that 
memorable day. When I put the key into the keyhole, I 
turned it in the wrong direction. Thinking that the 
padlock was locked, I pulled the key out, and, oh, horror! 
only the head of the key was left in my hands. I tried 
in vain to connect it with the half which was left in the 
keyhole, and by some magic to extricate it. At last I 
had to get used to the terrible thought that I had 
committed a new crime, which would be discovered that 
very day, upon papa’s return to his cabinet. 

Mimi’s complaint, number one, and the key! Nothing 
worse could have happened to me. Grandmother — for 
Mimi’s complaint, St. Jér6me—for number one, and 
papa — for the key, —all that would overwhelm me not 
later than that very evening. 

“What will become of me? Oh, what have I done!” 
I said aloud, as I walked across the soft carpet of the 
cabinet. “Oh, well!” I said to myself, getting the con- 
fectionary and the cigars, “ there is no escaping fate,” and 
I ran to the house. 


THE SMALL KEY 193 


That fatalistic expression, which I had caught from 
Nikolay in my childhood, had produced upon me, in all 
the heavy moments of my life, a beneficent, temporarily 
soothing effect. When I entered the parlour, I was in a 
somewhat nervous and unnatural, but exceedingly happy 
frame of mind. 


XIII. 
THE TRAITRESS 


AFTER dinner began the petits jeux, and I took a very 
lively part in them. As we were playing “ Cat-and- 
mouse,’ I awkwardly ran against the governess of the 
Korn&kovs, and, accidentally stepping on her skirt, tore 
it. When I noticed that all the girls, but particularly 
Sénichka, took great delight in seeing the governess put 
out about it, and going to the maids’ room to fix her 
dress, I decided I would afford them that pleasure once 
more. In consequence of this amiable intention, I began 
to gallop around the governess, the moment she returned 
to the room, and continued these evolutions until I found 
a favourable opportunity of catching my heel in her skirt, 
and tearing it. Sdnichka and the princesses could hardly 
hold themselves with laughing, which very agreeably 
flattered my egoism, but St. Jérdme, who had evidently 
noticed my tricks, said that I was too merry for any good, 
and that if I would not behave better, he would make me 
feel sorry, in spite of the celebration. 

I was in the irritated condition of a man who has lost 
more than he has in his pocket, who is afraid to look up 
his standing, and proceeds to play desperately, without 
any hope of winning back, but only in order not to give 
himself any time to come to his senses. I smiled inso- 
lently and walked away from him. 


After the “cat-and-mouse,” somebody started a game 
194 


THE TRAITRESS 195 


which, I think, is called « Lange Nase” with us. The 
game consisted in placing two rows of chairs facing each 
other, and dividing the ladies and gentlemen into two 
parties, and having each chosen from the other by 
alternation. 

The younger princess chose every time the younger 
Ivin, Kétenka chose Voldédya or Ilinka, and Sdénichka — 
every time Serézha, and she was, to my great amazement, 
not in the least ashamed when Serézha went and seated 
himself right opposite her. She laughed her sweet, melo- 
dious laugh and nodded her head to him in token that he 
had guessed correctly. Nobody chose me. This greatly 
offended my vanity, and I understood that I was super- 
fluous, one who is left over, and that they had to say of 
me every time: “Who is left over? Yes, Nikdlenka. 
So you take him!” So that whenever I was out, I went 
up straight to sister, or to one of the homely princesses, 
and, to my misfortune, I never made a mistake. Sé- 
nichka, however, seemed to be so occupied with Serézha 
Ivin, that I did not exist for her at all. I do not know 
on what ground I mentally called her “ traitress,” for she 
had never given me a promise that she would choose me, 
and not Serézha; but I was firmly convinced that she 
acted in a most shameful manner toward me. 

After the game I noticed that the “ traitress,’ whom I 
despised, but from whom I nevertheless could not keep 
my eyes, had gone into the corner with Serézha and 
Katenka, and that they were talking mysteriously about 
something. I stole behind the piano, in order to discover 
their secrets, and I saw this: Katenka was holding a 
batiste handkerchief at two of its ends, so that it served 
for a screen and concealed Serézha’s and Sdnichka’s heads. 
“No, you have lost,so pay your fine!” said Serézha. 
Sénichka dropped her hands, stood before him like a 
guilty person, and said, blushing: “ No, I have not lost! 
Am I not right, Mademoiselle Catherine?” «<I love 


196 BOYHOOD 


truth,” answered K&tenka, “you have lost the wager, ma 
chére !” 

No sooner had Kaétenka pronounced these words than 
Serézha leaned over and kissed Sénichka. He just kissed 
her rosy lips. And Sdénichka laughed as if that were all 
right, as if it were a very jolly thing. Terrible! O 
tricky traitress! 


XIV. 
THE ECLIPSE 


I SUDDENLY felt a contempt for the whole feminine 
sex In general and for Sdénichka in particular. I began to 
persuade myself that there was no fun in those games, 
and that they were good enough only for little girls, and 
I was dying to do some daring act and show such a bit of 
bravado as to make them wonder at me. The oppor- 
tunity presented itself in due time. 

St. Jér6me had a talk with Mimi about something, then 
he left the room. The sound of his steps was heard 
at first upon the staircase, then above us, in the class- 
room. It occurred to me that Mimi had told him where 
she had seen me during class hours, and that he had 
gone to look at the class book. At that time I could not 
suppose any other aim in St. Jérdme’s life than the desire 
to punish me. I have read somewhere that children 
between twelve and fourteen years of age, that is, those 
who are in the transitional stage of boyhood, have a 
particular mania for arson and murder. As I think of 
my own boyhood and, in particular, of the state of 
my mind on that fatal day, I very clearly comprehend 
the possibility of an aimless crime, without any desire of 
doing harm, but just out of curiosity and out of an 
unconscious need of some activity. There are minutes 
when the future presents itself to a man in so sombre 
a light that he is afraid to rest his mental vision upon it, 


completely interrupts his mind’s activity, and endeavours 
197 


198 BOYHOOD 


to persuade himself that there will be no future and that 
there has been no past. In such minutes, when the mind 
does not judge in advance the determinations of the will, 
and carnal instincts are the only mainsprings of life that 
are left, a child without any experience, and predisposed 
to such a condition, naturally, without the least hesitation 
or fear, and with a smile of curiosity, starts up and fans a 
fire under his own house, where his brothers and his 
parents sleep, whom he loves tenderly. Under the in- 
fluence of this same momentary absence of reasoning 
power, — almost under the influence of distraction, —a 
peasant lad of seventeen years of age, who is examining 
the edge of a newly ground axe near the bench on which 
his old father is sleeping face downward, suddenly swings 
his axe, and with dull curiosity looks at the blood gush- 
ing under the bench from the severed neck. Under the 
influence of the same absence of thought and of an 
instinctive curiosity a man finds a certain pleasure in 
stopping on the very brink of a precipice, and in think- 
ing: “ What if I jumped down there?” or in placing a 
loaded pistol to his forehead, and in thinking: “ What if 
I pressed the trigger?” or in looking at some distin- 
guished person, for whom all society has the profoundest 
respect, and in thinking: “What if I went up to him 
and took him by the nose, and said: ‘Now, my dear sir, 
come along with me!’” 

When St. Jér6me came down-stairs and told me that 
I had no right to be here to-day, because I had behaved 
and studied so badly, and that I should go up-stairs at 
once, I, under the influence of just such an inward agita- 
tion and absence of reasoning, showed him my tongue, 
and told him that I would not go. 

At first St. Jér6me could not pronounce a word from 
amazement and anger. 

“ Crest bien,” he said to me, as he caught up with me, 
“T have more than once promised you a punishment, 


THE ECLIPSE 199 


from which your grandmother has been trying to save 
you. Now I see that nothing but the rod will make you 
obey, and to-day you have well deserved it.” 

He said that so loudly that all heard his words. My 
blood rushed with unusual vehemence to my heart. 
I felt it pulsating terribly, and pallor covering my face, 
and my lips quivering entirely against my will. I must 
have been terrible at that moment, because St. Jéréme 
avoided my look as he walked up to me and took me 
by my arm; but at the touch of his hand, I felt so badly 
that, forgetting myself in my anger, I drew my arm away 
from him and with all my boyish strength dealt him a blow. 

« What is the matter with you ?” said Volddya, approach- 
ing me, when he, in terror and amazement, saw my deed. 

“Leave me alone!” I cried out to him through my 
tears. “You none of you love me, and you do not 
understand how unhappy I am! You are all mean 
and despicable!” I added, in a kind of stupor, turning 
to all the company assembled. 

Just then St. JérOme again walked up to me, with 
a determined and pale countenance, and, before I had 
any time to prepare myself for the defence, with a quick 
motion compressed both my arms, as in a vise, and pulled 
me away to some place. My head was dizzy from 
excitement. I remember only that I fought desperately 
with my head and knees as long as I had any strength 
left; I remember that my nose several times struck 
against somebody’s thighs, that somebody’s coat kept on 
getting into my mouth, and that all about me I heard 
the presence of somebody’s feet, and smelled the smell 
of dust and of violets, with which St. Jérdme used to 
perfume himself. 

Five minutes later the door of the lumber-room was 
closed after me. 

“ Vasili!” he said in a contemptuous, triumphant voice, 
“bring some rods!” 


Ex Vi, 
DREAMS 


Coup I have thought at that time that I should 
remain alive, after the many misfortunes which had 
befallen me, and that the time would come when I 
should think calmly of them? 

As I considered what I had done, I was unable to 
imagine what would become of me, but I had a dim pre- 
sentiment that I was irretrievably lost. 

At first, complete silence reigned below me and about 
me, or at least it so appeared to me from too great an 
inward agitation. By degrees I began to distinguish 
different sounds. Vasili came up-stairs and, throwing 
something that resembled a broom on the window, lay 
down on the clothes-bench, yawning. Below me was heard 
the loud voice of Avgtist Anténych (he, no doubt, was 
speaking about me), then some children’s voices, then 
laughter and running, and a few minutes later everything 
in the house was moving as before, as if no one knew or 
cared to know that I was sitting in a dark lumber-room. 

I was not crying, but something heavy, like a stone, 
lay upon my heart. Thoughts and pictures passed through 
my disturbed imagination with increased rapidity; but 
the recollection of the misfortune which had befallen me 
continually interrupted their fanciful chain, and I again 
entered into an inextricable labyrinth of uncertainty as 
to my impending fate, of despair, and of terror. 


Then it occurred to me that there must have existed 
200 


DREAMS 201 


a certain unknown reason for the universal hostility and 
hatred manifested toward me. (I was firmly convinced 
that all, beginning with grandmother and ending with 
coachman Filipp, hated me and found pleasure in my 
sufferings.) “It must be, I am not the son of my mother 
and of my father, not Volédya’s brother, but some unfor- 
tunate orphan, a foundling, picked up for charity’s sake,” 
I said to myself, and that absurd idea not only afforded 
me some sad consolation, but appeared quite probable 
to me. It was a relief for me to think that I was 
unhappy, not because I was guilty, but because that had 
been my fate since my very birth, and because my fate 
resembled that of unfortunate Karl Ivanovich. 

“But why should this secret be concealed any longer, 
since I myself have discovered it?” I said to myself. «I 
will go to-morrow to papa, and will say to him: ‘ Papa, you 
are in vain concealing the secret of my birth from me; 
I know it.’ He will say to me: ‘ What is to be done, 
my dear? Sooner or later you would have found it 
out, — you are not my son, but I have adopted you, and 
if you will be worthy of my love, I shall never abandon 
you. And I will tell him: ‘Papa, although I have no 
right to call you by this name, I now pronounce it for 
the last time. I have always loved you, and always 
shall. I shall never forget that you are my benefactor, 
but I no longer can remain in your house. Here nobody 
loves me, and St. Jérdme has vowed to destroy me. 
Either he or I must leave your house, because I am not 
responsible for my acts, —I so hate that man that Iam 
capable of doing anything. I will kill him, that’s it pre- 
cisely, I will kill him. Papa will begin to reason with 
me, but I shall only wave my hand, and shall tell him: 
‘No, my friend and benefactor, we cannot live together, 
so let me go!’ And I shall embrace him, and shall tell 
him, for some reason in French: ‘ OA, mon pére, oh, mon 
bienfaiteur, donne-mot pour la derniére fors ta benediction, 


202 BOYHOOD 


et que la volonté de Dieu soit faite!’” At this thought 
I burst out into loud tears, as I sat on a box in the dark 
lumber-room. Suddenly I thought of the degrading pun- 
ishment which awaited me, and the actual facts presented 
themselves in their real light to me, and my dreams were 
dispersed immediately. 

Now I imagined I was already at liberty, out of our 
house. I joined the hussars, and went to war. Enemies 
bore down upon me from all sides, I brandished my 
sword and killed one; another brandish, and I killed a 
second, a third. At last, I fell to the ground, exhausted 
from wounds and fatigue, and cried, “ Victory!” <A 
general rode up to me and asked: “ Where is he, our 
saviour?” They pointed to me, and he rushed to embrace 
me, and with tears of joy cried out, “ Victory!” I grew 
well again, and, with my arm in a black sling, walked 
down the Tver Boulevard. I wasa general! and the Tsar 
met me and asked: “ Who is that wounded young man?” 
He was told that it was the famous hero, Nikolay. The 
Tsar walked up to me and said: “I thank you. I shall 
do anything you may ask of me.” I made a respectful 
bow, leaning upon my sword, and said: “I am happy, 
great Tsar, that I was able to shed my blood for my 
country, and I should like to die for it; but since you 
are so gracious as to permit me to ask something of 
you, I ask only this: permit me to destroy my enemy, 
the foreigner St. Jérdme. I want to destroy my en- 
emy, St. Jérdme.” I angrily stopped in front of St. 
Jérdme, and said to him: “You have caused my mis- 
fortune, & genoux!” Suddenly it occurred to me that 
the real St. JérOme might come in any minute with the 
rods, and I again saw myself, not as a general who had 
saved his country, but as a most wretched and pitiful 
creature. 

Then again I thought of God, and I boldly asked Him, 
for what He was punishing me. “I think I have never 


DREAMS 203 


forgotten to say my prayers, neither in the morning nor 
in the evening; then, what am I suffering for?” I can 
absolutely affirm that my first step in the direction of 
religious doubts, which agitated me in my boyhood, was 
made by me at this time, not because my misfortune had 
incited me to murmuring and unbelief, but because the 
thought of an unjust Providence, which had entered my 
mind at this moment of complete spiritual disorganiza- 
tion, rapidly sprouted and took root, just like an evil 
seed which after a rain has fallen on the loosened earth. 

Then, again, I imagined that I should certainly die, and 
I represented vividly to myself St. Jérdme’s astonishment 
when he would find my lifeless body in the lumber-room. 
I recalled the stories of Natalya Sdvishna about the soul 
of a deceased person not leaving the house for forty days, 
and I mentally passed unnoticed, after my death, through 
all the rooms of grandmother’s house, and listened to the 
genuine tears of Lytibochka, to the laments of grand- 
mother, and to papa’s conversation with Avgtist Antdéno- 
vich. “He was a fine boy,” papa would say with tears 
in his eyes. “Yes,” St. JérOme would answer, “but a 
wild fellow.” “You ought to respect the dead,” papa 
would say, “you were the cause of his death, you have 
frightened him to death, and he could not bear the 
humiliation which you had caused him. Away from 
here, rascal!” 

St. Jér6me would fall upon his knees, would weep and 
beg forgiveness. After forty days my soul would fly away 
to heaven. There I see something wonderfully beautiful, 
white, transparent, and long, and I feel it is my mother. 
This white form surrounds and pets me. “If it is really 
you,” I say, “show yourself better, that I may be able to 
embrace you.” And the voice answers me: “We are 
all like this here, I cannot embrace you any better. 
Are you not happy as it is?” “Yes, I am very happy, 
but you cannot tickle me, and I cannot kiss your hands.” 


204 BOYHOOD 


“There is no need of it; it is nice here without it,” she 
says, and I feel that it is nice indeed, and we fly together 
higher and higher. 

Just then, it seemed, I awoke and found myself again 
on the box, in the lumber-room, with cheeks wet from 
tears, meaninglessly repeating the words: “ And we fly 
higher and higher!” I made every imaginable effort 
to clear up my situation, but only a terribly gloomy, 
impenetrable distance presented itself to my mental vision. 
I tried to return to those consoling, happy dreams, which 
the consciousness of reality had interrupted, but to my 
astonishment I found, every time I returned on the road 
of my former dreams, that their continuation was impos- 
sible, and what was most remarkable, that they no longer 
afforded me any pleasure. 


XVL 
AFTER GRINDING COMES FLOUR 


I PASSED the night in the lumber-room, and nobody 
came to see me. Only the next day, that is, on Sunday, 
I was transferred to a small room, near the class-room, 
and was locked up again. I began to hope that my pun- 
ishment would be limited to incarceration, and my 
thoughts grew calmer, under the influence of a sweet and 
refreshing sleep, of the bright sun which glistened on the 
frosty designs of the windows, and of the usual noise in 
the street in daytime. Nevertheless, the solitary confine- 
ment was hard to bear: I wanted to move about, to tell 
somebody everything that had accumulated within my 
soul, and there was no living being near me. This situa- 
tion was the more disagreeable since I could not help 
hearing, however much I hated it, St. Jéré6me pacing up 
and down his room, and calmly whistling some merry 
tunes. I was absolutely convinced that he did not want 
to whistle at all, but that he did so only to annoy me. 

At two o'clock St. Jér6me and Voléddya went down- 
stairs, and Nikolay brought me my dinner, and when I 
talked with him about what I had done, and what awaited 
me, he said: ; 

“Qh, well, sir! Don’t worry: After grinding comes 
flour.” 

Though this proverb, which later in life often fortified 
my spirit, gave me some consolation, the fact that they 


had sent me, not bread and water, but the whole dinner, 
205 


206 BOYHOOD 


even dessert — white-loaves — gave me much concern. If 
they had not sent me the white-loaves, I should have 
concluded that the incarceration was my punishment, but 
now it appeared that I was not yet punished, that I was 
only removed from the others as a dangerous man, and 
that the punishment was still ahead. While I was 
deeply engaged in the solution of this question, a key 
was turned in the lock of my prison, and St. Jéréme 
entered the room, with an austere and official expression 
on his face. 

“Come to grandmother 
me. 

I wanted to clean the sleeves of the blouse, that had 
become soiled by chalk, before leaving the room, but St. 
Jérdme said that this was entirely unnecessary, as though 
I was already in such a wretched moral state that it was 
not worth while to trouble myself about my appearance. 

Katenka, Lyubochka, and Voléddya gazed at me, as St. 
Jéréme led me by my arm through the parlour, with ex- 
actly the same expression with which we looked at the 
prisoners who used to be taken by our windows on Mon- 
days. When I walked up to grandmothers armchair, 
with the intention of kissing her hand, she turned away 
from me and hid her hand under her mantilla. 

“Yes, my dear,” she said, after a protracted silence, 
during which she surveyed me from head to foot with 
such an expression that I did not know what to do with 
my eyes and hands, “I must say you value my love very 
much, and afford me genuine consolation. M. St. Jé- 
rome, who, at my request,” she added, stretching out every 
word, “undertook your education, does not wish to stay 
in my house any longer. And why? On your account, 
my dear. I had hoped that you would be grateful,” she 
continued, after a moment’s silence and in a tone which 
proved that her speech had been prepared long before, 
“for his care and labours, that you would know how to 


#2? 


he said, without looking at 


AFTER GRINDING COMES FLOUR 207 


value his deserts, whereas you, pert little urchin, have 
dared to lift your hand against him! Very well! Beau- 
tiful! I am beginning to think myself that you are not 
capable of understanding kind treatment, and that other, 
lower means must be used with you. Immediately ask 
his pardon,” she added, in a stern, commanding tone, 
pointing to St. Jérdme; “do you hear?” 

I looked in the direction indicated by grandmother’s 
hand, and, noticing St. Jérdme’s coat, turned away and 
did not budge from the spot, a sensation of fainting over- 
coming me again. 

“Well, do you not hear what I am saying to you?” 

I trembled with my whole body, but did not budge. 

“Kok6é!” said grandmother, when she, evidently, ob- 
served the inward suffering which I was experiencing. 
«“ Koké6,” she said, this time not so much in a command- 
ing, as in a tender voice, “is it you?” 

“Grandmother, I will not ask his pardon for anything,” 
I said, and suddenly stopped, for I felt that I should not 
be able to restrain the tears that were choking me, if I 
were to say another word. 

“JT command you, I beg you. What is the matter 
with you?” 

«T—]—do not — want to —I cannot,” I muttered, 
and the checked sobs, which had accumulated in my breast, 
suddenly burst their barrier, and issued in a furious torrent. 

“ C’est ainst que vous obéissez & votre seconde mére, est 
ainsi que vous reconnatssez ses bontés,” said St. JérOme in 
a tragic voice. “A genoux!” 

“ My God, if she saw this!” said grandmother, turning 
away from me and wiping off the tears that had appeared 
in her eyes. 

“Tf she saw this! But all is for the best. Yes, she 
would not have lived through this sorrow, she would not.” 

And grandmother wept harder and harder. I, too, 
wept, but I did not even think of asking forgiveness. 


208 BOYHOOD 


“ Tranquillisez-vous au nom du ciel, Madame la Com- 
tesse,” said St. Jérdme. 

But grandmother was not listening to him. She cov- 
ered her face with her hands, and her sobs soon passed 
into hiccoughs and hysterics. Mimi and Gasha ran into 
the room with frightened faces, there was an odour of 
spirits, and the whole house was on its feet and whisper- 
ing. 

: Enjoy what you have done,” said St. Jérdme, as he 
led me up-stairs. 

“Q God! what have I done? What a terrible crimi- 
nal I am!” 

No sooner had St. Jér6me walked down-stairs, after 
ordering me to go to my room, than I ran down the 
large staircase which led to the street, without being 
clearly conscious of what I was doing. 

“ Whither are you running?” a familiar voice suddenly 
asked me. “I want you, my darling!” 

I wanted to run by him, but father caught my arm, 
and said, sternly : 

“Come with me, my dear! How did you dare to 
touch the portfolio in my cabinet?” He led me into the 
small sofa-room. “Well? Why don’t you say some- 
thing? Well?” he added, pulling my ear. 

“T am guilty,” I said. “I do not know myself what 
tempted me!” 

“Oh, you don’t know what tempted you, you don’t 
know, you don’t, you don’t, you don’t,” he repeated, at 
every word shaking my ear. “ Will you ever again put 
in your nose where it does not belong? Will you? Will 
you?” 

Though I felt a terrible pain in my ear, I did not 
weep, but experienced a pleasant moral sensation. The 
moment he let my ear go, I seized his hand, and, with 
tears in my eyes, began to cover it with kisses. 

“Strike me again,” I said through my tears, “harder, 


AFTER GRINDING COMES FLOUR 209 


more! I am a _ good-for-nothing, miserable, unhappy 
man !” 

« What is the matter with you?” he said, pushing me 
lightly aside. 

“No, I sha’n’t go away for anything,” I said, clinging 
to his coat. “Everybody hates me, I know it, but, for 
the Lord’s sake, listen to me, defend me, or drive me out 
of the house! I cannot live with him! He is trying in 
every way to humiliate me, orders me to kneel in his 
presence, and wants to whip me. I cannot stand it. I 
am not a little child; I shall not live through it, I shall 
die; I will kill myself. He told grandmother that I was 
a good-for-nothing, and she is now ill, she will die through 
me, I — with — him — for the Lord’s sake, whip me — 
— why — do they — tor—ment me?” 

My tears choked me, I sat down on the divan, and, not 
being able to say anything more, fell with my head upon 
his knees and sobbed so much that I thought I was going 
to die that very minute. 

“What are you weeping about, you round-cheeks ?” 
said papa, sympathetically, as he leaned over me. 

“He is my tyrant —tormentor—TI shall die — no- 
body loves me!” I barely was able to utter, and I fell 
into convulsions. 

Papa took me in his arms and carried me into the 
sleeping-room. I fell asleep. 

When I awoke, it was very late, a candle was burning 
near my bed, and in the room sat our family doctor, 
Mimi, and Lytibochka. I could see by their faces that 
they were afraid for my health. But I felt so well and 
light after a sleep of almost twelve hours that I should 
have leaped out of my bed, if it had not been so dis- 
agreeable for me to disturb their conviction that I was 
very ill. 


XVIE 
HATRED 


YES, it was a real feeling of hatred,—not of that 
hatred of which we read in novels, and in which I do not 
believe, — not of that hatred which finds pleasure in do- 
ing a person some harm, but of that hatred which in- 
spires you with an irresistible loathing for a person who, 
otherwise, deserves your respect, which makes you loathe 
his hair, his neck, his gait, the sound of his voice, all his 
members and all his motions, and, at the same time, 
attracts you to him by some incomprehensible power, and 
compels you with restless attention to follow every 
minutest act of his. I experienced this feeling for St. 
Jérome. 

St. Jérdme had been living in our house for a year and 
a half. When I now think coolly of the man, I find that 
he was a good Frenchman, but a Frenchman in the high- 
est degree. He was not stupid, quite well educated, and 
conscientiously executed his duty toward us; but he 
was possessed of the characteristic traits of frivolous 
egotism, vanity, impudence, and ignorant self-confidence, 
which are common to all of his countrymen, and are 
diametrically opposed to the Russian character. All 
that I did not like. Of course, grandmother had ex- 
plained to him her opinion in regard to corporal punish- 
ment, and he did not dare strike us; but, in spite of this, 
he often threatened us, especially me, with the rod, and 
pronounced the word fouetter (something like fowatter) so 

0 


HATRED 7A | 


disgustingly, and with such an intonation as if it would 
give him the greatest pleasure to whip me. 

I was not in the least afraid of the pain of the punish- 
ment, though I had never experienced it, but the mere 
thought that St. Jérdme could strike me induced in me a 
heavy feeling of subdued despair and fury. 

In moments of anger Karl Ivdnovich used to make his 
personal accounts with us by means of the ruler or sus- 
penders, but I recall that without the least annoyance. 
Even if Karl Ivanovich had struck me at that particular 
moment (when I was fourteen years old), I should have 
borne his blows with equanimity. I loved Karl Ivan- 
ovich, remembered him as far back as I could remember 
myself, and was accustomed to regard him as a member 
of the family; but St. Jéréme was a haughty and self- 
satisfied man, for whom I felt nothing but that invol- 
untary respect with which all grown people inspired 
me. Karl Ivanovich was a funny old valet, whom I 
loved with all my soul, but whom I placed, nevertheless, 
below myself in my childish conception of social standing. 

St. Jérdme, on the contrary, was an educated, fine- 
looking young dandy, who tried to stand on the same 
level with us. 

Karl Ivdnovich used to scold and punish us with indif- 
ference ; it was evident that he regarded it as a disagree- 
able, though necessary, duty. St. Jérdme, on the contrary, 
liked to pose as a tutor; it was evident that, when he 
punished us, he did so more for his own pleasure than for 
our good. He was carried away by his majesty. His 
high-flowing French phrases, which he pronounced with 
a strong accent on the last syllable, with circumflexes, 
were inexpressibly repulsive to me. When Karl Ivdn- 
ovich grew angry, he said: “ Puppet show, vanton boy, 
Shampanish fly.” St. Jérdme called us “mauvais sujet, 
villain garnement,” and so forth, giving me names which 
offended my self-esteem. 


A ee BOYHOOD 


Karl Ivdnovich used to put us on our knees with face 
to the corner, and the punishment consisted in the physi- 
cal pain which arose from such an attitude; St. Jéréme 
threw out his chest, made a majestic gesture with his 
hand, and cried, in a tragic voice: “A genoux, mauvais 
sujet !” and compelled us to get down on our knees with 
our faces turned toward him, and ask his forgiveness. 
The punishment consisted in humiliation. 

I was not punished and nobody even mentioned what 
had happened to me; but I could not forget what despair, 
shame, and terror I had experienced in those two days. 
Although St. Jérd6me ever since then gave me up and 
hardly paid any attention to me, I could not get accus- 
tomed to looking upon him with equanimity. Every time 
our eyes met by accident, I felt that my glance expressed 
too much apparent hatred, and I hastened to assume an 
expression of indifference ; but when I thought he under- 
stood my simulation, I blushed and turned my face away 
altogether. 

In short, it was inexpressibly hard for me to have any 
relations with him. 


XVIII. 
THE MAIDS’ CHAMBER 


I FELT more and more lonely, and my chief pleasures 
were solitary meditations and observations. I shall tell 
in the next chapter of the subject of my meditations; but 
the scene of my observations was preéminently the maids’ 
chamber, where a pathetic romance took place, which 
interested me very much. The heroine of this romance, 
of course, was Masha. She was in love with Vasili, who 
had known her when she was still at liberty, and who had 
promised to marry her. Fate, which had separated them 
five years before, had again brought them together in 
grandmother's house, but had placed a barrier to their 
mutual love in the person of Nikolay, Mdsha’s uncle, who 
would not listen to Mdsha’s marrying Vasfli, whom he 
called a weak-brained and reckless man. 

This barrier had the result that Vasili, who heretofore 
had been cold and careless in his relations to Masha, now 
fell in love with her, and he fell in love as much as a man 
is capable of such a sentiment, when he has been a tailor 
in manorial service, wearing a rose-coloured blouse and 
waxing his hair with pomatum. 

Although his manifestations of love were very strange 
and awkward (for example, whenever he met Masha he 
tried to cause her pain: either he pinched her, or struck 
her with the palm of his hand, or squeezed her with such 
power that she scarcely could draw breath), his love was 


sincere, which is proved even by this, that from the very 
213 


214 BOYHOOD 


time when Nikoldy had definitely refused him the hand of 
his niece, he had gone on a protracted spree from sorrow, 
and frequented inns and was riotous in his behaviour, — 
in short, he acted so outrageously that he often was sub- 
jected to humiliating punishments at the police station. 
But these actions of his and their consequences seemed 
to constitute a special merit in Masha’s eyes, and only 
increased her love for him. Whenever Vasili was re- 
tained in the lockup, Masha cried for days at a time 
and did not dry her tears; she complained of her bitter 
fate to Gdsha, who took a lively part in the affairs of the 
unfortunate lovers, and paying no attention to her uncle’s 
scolding and beating, she stealthily ran to the police 
station to visit and comfort her friend. 

Reader, do not look with contempt upon the society to 
which I am introducing you! If the strings of love and 
sympathy have not slackened in your souls, you will find 
sounds in the maids’ chamber to which they will respond. 
Whether you like to follow me or not, I betake myself to 
the landing on the staircase, from which I can see every- 
thing that takes place in the room. There is the oven- 
bench, upon which stands a flat-iron, a papier-maché doll 
with a broken nose, a wash-basin, and a pitcher; there is 
the window, upon which lies in disorder a bit of black 
wax, a skein of silk, a half-eaten green cucumber and a 
candy box; there is a large red table, upon which a 
chintz-covered brick is placed over a new piece of sewing. 

It was here that Mdsha sat, wearing my favourite, 
rose-coloured gingham dress and blue kerchief, which par- 
ticularly attracted my attention. She was sewing, and 
stopped, now and then, to scratch her head with the 
needle, or to fix the candle. I looked at her and thought: 
Why was she not born a lady with those bright blue 
eyes, immense auburn braid and high breast? How well 
she would look in a sitting-room in a cap with rose- 
coloured ribbons and in a crimson capote, not such as Mimi 


THE MAIDS’ CHAMBER 215 


had, but such as I had seen in the Tver Boulevard. She 
would be working at the embroidery-frame, and I should 
be looking at her in the mirror, and I should give her 
anything she might ask for, hand her her cloak, and 
myself serve her her food. 

What a drunken face and repulsive figure that Vasili 
had, in his tight coat which he wore over his dirty rose- 
coloured blouse! In every motion of his, in every curva- 
ture of his back, I thought I read the undoubted signs of 
the disgusting punishment which had befallen him. 

“« What, Vasya, again ?” said Masha, sticking her needle 
into the cushion, and without raising her head to meet 
Vasili, who was just entering. 

“Well, what good will come from him?” answered 
Vasili. “If he’d only make his mind up one way or the 
other! As it is, I am ruined, and all on his account!” 

« Will you drink tea ?” said Nadézhda, another chamber- 
maid. 

“Thank you very much. What does that thief, your 
uncle, hate me for? For having a decent suit, for my 
bearing, for my gait? In short—the deuce!” Vasili 
concluded, waving his hand. 

«You must be submissive,” said Masha, biting off a 
thread, “ but you, on the contrary —” 

“ My patience has given out, that’s what!” 

Just then a door was heard slamming in grandmother's 
room, and the gruff voice of Gdsha, who was walking up 
the stairs. 

“Go and please her, when she does not know herself 
what she wants —it is an accursed life, a prisoner’s life! 
If only the Lord will forgive my sin,” she grumbled, 
waving her arms. 

“My respects to Agdfya Mikhdylovna!” said Vasili, 
rising in his seat, as she entered. 

«You here again! I have other things to think of 
besides your respects,” she answered, looking threateningly 


216 BOYHOOD 


at him. “Why are you coming here? Is it proper for 
a man to come to girls’ rooms ?” 

“TI wanted to find out about your health,” timidly said 
Vasili. 

“T’ll bite the dust soon, that’s the way of my health!” 
angrily cried Agdfya Mikhdylovna at the top of her voice. 

Vasili laughed. 

« There is nothing to laugh about, and when I tell you 
to get out, go! I declare, that heathen, that rascal wants 
to marry! Now, march, get out!” 

Agdfya Mikhdéylovna stamped her foot and went to her 
room, slamming the door with such force that the win- 
dow-panes shook. 

One could hear her behind the partition for a long 
time, flinging about her things and pulling the ears of her 
favourite cat, while scolding everybody and everything, 
and cursing her life; finally the door was opened, and the 
cat, mewing pitifully, was whirled out by her tail. 

“T see I had better come some other time to take a 
glass of tea,” said Vasili in a whisper. “Good-bye till the 
next pleasant meeting!” 

“Never mind,” said Nadézhda, winking, “I shall go 
and look after the samovar.” 

“J will make an end of it,” continued Vasili, seating 
himself nearer to Masha, the moment Nadézhda left the 
room. “Either I'll go straight to the countess, and will 
say: ‘It is so and so,’ or I'll throw everything away, and, 
upon my word, will run away to the end of the world.” 

« And I shall remain —” 

“Tt is you alone I am sorry for, or else my head 
would long ago have been in the free world, upon my 
word, upon my word.” 

“Vasili, why don’t you bring me your blouses to get 
them washed,” said Masha, after a minute’s silence, “ for 
just see how black it is,” she added, taking hold of the 
collar of his blouse. 


THE MAIDS’ CHAMBER Aa 


Just then grandmother's bell was heard down-stairs, 
and Gasha came out of her room. 

“Well, rascal, what do you want of her?” she said, 
pushing Vasili out of the door, who got up in haste, when 
he saw her. “This is what you have brought her to, and 
now you annoy her. You beggar, you evidertly take 
delight in looking at her tears. Get out! Let not your 
breath be here again! And what good thing have you 
found in him?” she continued, turning to Masha. “Has 
your uncle not beaten you enough to-day? No, you 
stick to it: ‘I sha’n’t marry anybody but Vasfli Griskov!’ 
Fool!” 

«Yes, and I will not marry anybody, I will not love 
anybody, even though you kill me,” said Masha, suddenly 
bursting into tears. 

For a long time I looked at Masha, who lay on a trunk 
and wiped her tears with her kerchief. I endeavoured to 
get rid of my idea of Vasili, and to find that point of 
view from which he could appear so attractive to her. 
Yet, though I sincerely sympathized with her grief, I was 
unable to comprehend how such a charming being as 
Masha seemed to be in my eyes, could love Vasili. 

“When I am grown up,’ I discoursed to myself, after 
I had returned to my room, “the Petrdévskoe estate will 
go to me, and Vasili and Masha will be my serfs. I 
shall be sitting in my cabinet and smoking a pipe. 
Masha will pass to the kitchen with a flat-iron. I shall 
say, ‘Call Masha!’ She will come, and nobody will be 
in the room. Suddenly Vasili will enter, and, seeing 
Masha, he will say: ‘I am a ruined man!’ and Masha, 
too, will burst out weeping, and I shall say: ‘ Vasili, I 
know that you love her, and that she loves you. Here, 
take one thousand roubles, marry her, and God grant you 
happiness!’ and I shall myself go into the sofa-room.” 

Among the endless number of thoughts and dreams 
that tracklessly cross the mind and the imagination, 


218 BOYHOOD 


there are some that leave a deep, pronounced furrow be- 
hind them; so that frequently one remembers, without 
remembering the essence of the thought, that something 
good has been in the head, one feels the traces of the 
thought, and tries to reproduce it. Such a deep trace 
was left in my soul by the thought of sacrificing my feel- 
ing in favour of Masha’s happiness, which she could find 
only in her marriage with Vasili. 


XIX. 
BOYHOOD 


PEOPLE will hardly believe what the favourite and most 
constant subjects of my thoughts were during the period 
of my boyhood,— for they were incompatible with my 
age and station. But, according to my opinion, the in- 
compatibility between a man’s position and his moral 
activity is the safest token of truth. 

In the course of the year, during which I led a soli- 
tary, concentrated moral life, all abstract thoughts of 
man’s destiny, of the future life, of the immortality of the 
soul presented themselves to my mind, and my weak 
childish reason tried with all the fervour of inexperience 
to elucidate those questions, whose proposition marks the 
highest degree the human mind can reach, but the solu- 
tion of which is not given to it. 

It seems to me that the human mind in its evolution 
passes in every separate individual over the same path on 
which it evolves during whole generations ; that the ideas 
which have served for the basis of distinct philosophical 
theories form inseparable parts of mind; and that every 
man has more or less clearly been conscious of them long 
before he knew of the existence of philosophical theories. 

These ideas presented themselves to my mind with 
such clearness and precision that I even tried to apply 
them to life, imagining that I was the first who had dis- 
covered such great and useful truths. 


At one time it occurred to me that happiness did not 
219 


220 BOYHOOD 


depend on external causes, but on our relation to them; 
that a man who is accustomed to bear suffering could not 
be unhappy. To accustom myself to endurance, I would 
hold for five minutes at a time the dictionaries of Tatish- 
chev in my outstretched hands, though that caused me 
unspeakable pain, or I would go into the lumber-room 
and strike my bare back so painfully with a rope that the 
tears would involuntarily appear in my eyes. 

At another time, I happened to think that death 
awaited me at any hour and at any minute, and wonder- 
ing how it was people had not seen this before me, I 
decided that man cannot be happy otherwise than by 
enjoying the present and not caring for the future. Under 
the influence of this thought, I abandoned my lessons for 
two or three days, and did nothing but lie on my bed and 
enjoy myself reading some novel and eating honey cakes 
which I bought with my last money. 

At another time, as I was standing at the blackboard 
and drawing various figures upon it with a piece of chalk, 
I was suddenly struck by the idea: Why is symmetry 
pleasant to the eye? What is symmetry? It is an 
implanted feeling, I answered myself. What is it based 
upon? Is symmetry to be found in everything in life? 
Not at all. Here is life, — and I drew an oval figure on 
the board. After life the soul passes into eternity ; here 
is eternity, — and I drew, on one side of the figure, a line 
to the very edge of the board. Why is there no such 
line on the other side of the figure? Really, what kind 
of an eternity is that which is only on one side? We 
have no doubt existed before this life, although we have 
lost the recollection of it. 

This consideration, which then appeared extremely 
novel and clear to me, but the connection of which I can 
barely make out now, gave me extreme pleasure, and I 
took a sheet of paper and intended to put my idea down 
in writing; but such a mass of ideas suddenly burst upon 


BOYHOOD fe | 


me that I was compelled to get up and walk about the 
room. As I walked up to the window, my attention 
was drawn to the horse which a driver was hitching to a 
water-cart, and all my thoughts centred on the solution 
of the question, into what animal or man the soul of that 
horse would pass after her death. Just then Volddya 
crossed the room and, seeing that I was deep in thought, 
smiled. This smile was enough to make me understand 
that all I had been thinking about was the merest bosh. 

I have told this memorable incident only to give the 
reader an idea what my reasonings were like. 

By none of these philosophical considerations was I so 
carried away as by scepticism, which at one time led me 
to a condition bordering on insanity. I imagined that 
nothing existed in the whole world outside of me, that 
objects were no objects, but only images which appeared 
whenever I turned my attention to them, and that these 
images would immediately disappear when I no longer 
thought of them. In short, I held the conviction 
with Schelling that objects do not exist, but only my 
relation to them. There were moments when, under the 
influence of this fixed idea, I reached such a degree of 
absurdity that I sometimes suddenly turned in the oppo- 
site direction, hoping to take nothingness by surprise, 
where I was not. 

What a miserable, insignificant mainspring of moral 
activities the human mind is! 

My feeble reason could not penetrate the impenetrable, 
and in the labour which transcended its power, I lost, one 
after another, those convictions which, for the happiness 
of my life, I ought never to have presumed to touch. 

From all that heavy moral labour I carried away nothing 
but agility of mind, which weakened my will-power, and 
a habit of constant moral analysis, which destroyed the 
freshness of my feeling and the clearness of my under- 
standing. 


222 BOYHOOD 


Abstract ideas are formed in consequence of a man’s 
ability to grasp, consciously, the condition of his soul at 
a certain moment, and to transfer it to his memory. My 
inclination for abstract reasonings so unnaturally devel- 
oped my consciousness that frequently, when I began to 
think of the simplest thing, I fell into the inextricable 
circle of the analysis of my thoughts, and I no longer 
thought of the question which occupied my attention, but 
I thought of the fact that I thought. If I asked myself: 
Of what am I thinking? I answered: I am thinking of 
thinking. And what am I thinking of now? I am 
thinking of thinking that I am thinking, and so on. 
Reason was lost in empty speculation. 

However, the philosophical discoveries which I made 
flattered my vanity very much: I frequently imagined 
myself a great man who was discoverimg new truths for 
the good of mankind, and I looked upon all other mortals 
with a proud consciousness of my dignity. But, strange 
to say, whenever I came in contact with these mortals, I 
grew timid, and the higher I placed myself in my own 
opinion, the less I was able to express the consciousness 
of my own dignity before others, and could not even get 
accustomed to not being ashamed of every simplest word 
and motion of mine. 


aks 
VOLODYA 


Yes, the farther I advance in the description of this 
period of my life, the harder and the more painful it is 
getting for me. Among the memories of this time I 
rarely, very rarely, find those moments of genuine, warm 
feeling, which so brilliantly and constantly illuminated 
the beginning of my life. I involuntarily want to run 
through the desert of my boyhood as fast as possible, and 
to reach that happy period, when the truly tender and 
noble feeling of friendship again brightly illuminated the 
end of that age, and laid the foundation for the new period 
of youth, full of poetry and charm. 

I shall not follow my memories hourly, but shall cast 
a rapid glance at the most important events from the 
time to which I have brought my narrative up to the 
time of my association with an unusual man who had a 
definite and beneficent influence upon my character and 
thought. 

Volédya was on the point of entering the university. 
He had separate teachers, and I listened with envy and 
involuntary awe when he, tapping the chalk on the black- 
board, talked of functions, sinuses, codrdinates, and so on, 
which seemed to me to be the expressions of an inaccessi- 
ble wisdom. One Sunday, after dinner, all the teachers 
and two professors assembled in grandmother’s room, and 
in presence of some invited guests rehearsed a university 


examination, at which rehearsal Voldédya, to grandmother’s 
223 


224 BOYHOOD 


great delight, showed unusual knowledge. They also 
asked me some questions in a few subjects, but I made 
a very poor showing, and the professors were evidently 
anxious to conceal my ignorance from grandmother, 
which confused me even more. However, they paid lit- 
tle attention to me; I was only fifteen years old, and I 
had another year yet till my examination. Volédya came 
down-stairs only for dinner, and passed his whole days 
and even evenings up-stairs studying, not because he was 
compelled to do so, but from his own choice. He was 
very vain, and did not wish to pass a mediocre, but an 
excellent examination. 

At last the day for the first examination arrived. Vo- 
lédya put on a blue dress coat with brass buttons, a gold 
watch, and lacquered boots. Papa’s phaeton drove up to 
the porch, Nikolay threw back the boot, and Volédya 
and St. JérOme drove to the university. The girls, espe- 
cially Katenka, with joyful and ecstatic countenances, 
looked through the window at the stately figure of Vo- 
lédya, as he seated himself in the carriage, and papa said: 
“God grant it, God grant it!” and grandmother, who had 
also dragged herself to the window, with tears in her 
eyes made the sign of the cross at Volddya until the 
phaeton was lost around the corner of the street, and 
even after that continued murmuring something. 

Voldédya returned. All impatiently asked him: “ Well ? 
Was it all right? How much did you get?” It was, 
however, evident from his looks that everything had gone 
well. Voldédya had received a five mark. On the next 
day he was seen off with the same wishes for success and 
with anxiety, and he was met with the same impatience 
and joy. Thus nine days passed. On the tenth day was 
to be the last, the most difficult examination, in religion. 
All stood at the window, and awaited him with even 
greater impatience. It was two o’clock, and Volédya had 
not yet returned. 


VOLODYA yas 


“Q Lord! Dear me! It is they! they!” cried Lyu- 
bochka, pressing against the window. 

And there, in reality, side by side with St. Jérdme, sat 
Voldédya, but no longer in the blue dress coat and gray 
cap, but in a student’s uniform with a hand-sewn blue 
collar, three-cornered hat, and gilt short sword at his 
side. 

“Oh, if you were alive!” cried grandmother, when she 
saw Volddya in his uniform, and fell into a swoon. 

Volddya ran into the antechamber with a beaming face 
and kissed and embraced me, Lytibochka, Mimi, and 
Katenka, who blushed up to her ears. Volddya was be- 
side himself with joy. And how well he looked in that 
uniform! How becoming his blue collar was to his 
sprouting black moustache! What a long, thin waist and 
noble carriage he had! 

On that memorable day all dined in grandmother’s 
room. Joy was in the faces of all, and at dinner, during 
dessert, a servant, with an adequately majestic, yet merry 
countenance, brought a bottle of champagne, wrapped in 
a napkin. Grandmother, for the first time after mother’s 
death, drank champagne, emptying a whole glass as she 
congratulated Volddya, and again wept for joy, looking at 
him. 

Voldédya after that drove out alone, in his own carriage, 
received his own acquaintances, smoked, and drove to 
balls; and I myself once saw him drink two bottles of 
champagne with his acquaintances in his room, while 
with every glass they drank the health of some myste- 
rious persons, and discussed who would get le fond de la 
bouteille. Yet he dined regularly at home, and after 
dinner sat down, as formerly, in the sofa-room, and al- 
ways mysteriously chatted with Katenka about something. 
As much as I could make out, without taking part in 
their conversations, they were talking about the heroes 
and heroines of novels they had read, about jealousy, and 


226 BOYHOOD 


love, and I could not understand what interest they could 
find in such discussions, nor why they smiled so gently 
and discussed so fervently. 

I noticed in general that between Katenka and Vo- 
ldédya there existed, in addition to the natural friendship 
between companions of childhood, some other strange 
relation, which removed them from us, and mysteriously 
bound them together. 


b.@.4 & 
KATENKA AND LYUBOCHKA 


KATENKA was sixteen years old. She was tall; her 
angularity of form, her bashfulness and awkwardness of 
movement, which are peculiar to a girl in her transitional 
age, had given way to the harmonious freshness and 
gracefulness of a newly budded flower; but she had not 
changed. The same light blue eyes and smiling counte- 
nance; the same straight nose, with its strong nostrils, 
forming almost a line with her forehead, and her little 
mouth with its bright smile; the same tiny dimples on 
her transparent rosy cheeks; the same little white hands, 
— and, for some reason, her former name of a “clean” 
girl remarkably fitted her even then. The only new 
things were her thick blond braid, which she wore like 
grown young ladies, and her young breast, the appearance 
of which visibly pleased and shamed her. 

Though Lytitbochka had grown up and had been 
educated together with her, she was in every respect a 
different girl. Lytibochka was not tall in stature, and she 
was bow-legged from early rickets, and had a badly 
shaped waist. In her whole figure nothing was beautiful 
but her eyes, and her eyes were beautiful indeed; they 
were large and black, and had such an irresistibly pleas- 
ant expression of dignity and naiveté that they invariably 
arrested the attention. Lyubochka was simple and nat- 
ural in everything, while Katenka, so it seemed, always 


tried to resemble somebody. Lytibochka always looked 
227 


228 BOYHOOD 


straight at you, and, at times, when she fixed her immense 
black eyes on a person, she did not take them away 
for so long, that she was scolded for being impolite ; 
Katenka, on the contrary, lowered her eyelashes, blinked, 
and assured people that she was near-sighted, while I 
knew very well that she.had good eyesight. 

Lytibochka, did not like to be demonstrative in the 
presence of strangers, and when some one began to kiss 
her before guests, she pouted and said that she could not 
bear “tenderness.” Katenka, on the other hand, grew 
particularly affectionate to Mimi, whenever guests were 
about, and was fond of walking up and down the parlour 
with her arms about some girl. Lyttbochka was a terrible 
giggler, and often, when in a fit of laughter, waved her 
arms and ran up and down the room; Katenka, on the 
contrary, covered her mouth with a handkerchief or with 
her hand, whenever she began to laugh. Lywtibochka 
always sat straight, and walked with her arms hanging 
down; Katenka held her head a little on one side, and 
walked with her arms folded. 

Lytibochka was always exceedingly happy whenever 
she had a chance to talk to a very tall man, and she used 
to say that she would marry nobody but a _ hussar; 
Katenka, however, said that all men were equally distaste- 
ful to her and that she would never marry, and she acted, 
every time she spoke with a man, like an entirely different 
person, as though she was afraid of something. Lytibochka 
always quarrelled with Mimi for lacing her corsets so 
tightly that it was impossible to breathe, and was fond 
of something good to eat; Katenka, on the contrary, 
frequently put her finger under the band of her skirt, to 
show us how loose it was, and she ate very little. Lyu- 
bochka was fond of drawing heads, while Kdtenka drew 
only flowers and butterflies. Lytbochka played with 
great clearness Field’s concerts and a few sonatas of 
beethoven ; Katenka played variations and waltzes, re- 


KATENKA AND LYUBOCHKA 229 


tarded the tempo, banged, continually took the pedal, and, 
before starting out to play, feelingly took three chords 
ar peqgio. 

But Katenka, as I then used to think, resembled a 
grown woman more, and therefore she pleased me more. 


XXII. 
PAPA 


Papa had been unusually happy ever since Volédya 
entered the university, and came more frequently than 
was his custom to dine with grandmother. However, 
his happiness, as I found out from Nikolay, was caused 
by his unusually great winnings. It even happened that 
he came to see us in the evening, before going to his club; 
he then seated himself at the piano, gathered us all about 
him, and, tapping with his soft boots (he could not bear 
heels, which he never wore), sang gipsy songs. It was 
then a sight to see the ridiculous ecstasy of his favourite, 
Lytibochka, who simply worshipped him. At times he 
came to the classroom and listened with austere face to 
the recital of my lessons, but by the few words which he 
employed in order to correct me I noticed that he did not 
know the subjects well in which I was being instructed. 
At times he stealthily winked at us and made signs to us, 
when grandmother began to growl and scold everybody 
without cause. “Well, we did catch it, children!” he 
would say afterward. In general, he came down in my 
opinion, from that inaccessible height where my childish 
imagination had placed him. I kissed his large white 
hand with the same genuine feeling of love and respect, 
but I took the liberty of deliberating about him, and 
judging his acts, and I was involuntarily surprised by 


thoughts that frightened me. I shall never forget the 
230 


PAPA 231 


occasion that inspired me with many such thoughts and 
afforded me much moral suffering. 

Late one evening he entered the sitting-room in his 
black dress coat and white vest, to take Volédya, who 
was dressing at that time in his room, toa ball. Grand- 
mother was waiting in her chamber for Volédya to appear 
before her, for she was in the habit of calling him up 
before every ball, to bless him, look him over, and give 
him instructions. In the parlour, which was lighted only 
by one lamp, Mimi and Katenka paced up and down, 
while Lytibochka sat at the piano and studied Field’s 
second concert, mamma’s favourite piece. 

I have never seen such a family resemblance as existed 
between sister and mother. This resemblance did not 
consist in the face, nor in the whole figure, but in some- 
thing intangible: in the hands, in the manner of walking, 
but especially in the voice and in certain expressions. 
When Lytibochka was angry and said: “They keep me 
my whole life,” she pronounced these words “my whole 
life,” which mamma, too, was in the habit of using, in 
such a manner, somewhat protracted, like “my who-o-le 
life,” that I thought I heard mamma; but most striking 
was the resemblance in her playing, and in all her attitudes 
at the piano: she arranged her dress in the same way, in 
the same way turned the pages with her left hand, in the 
same way struck the keys with her fist, when she was 
angry because she did not succeed in playing smoothly a 
difficult passage, and said: “O Lord,” and there was the 
same inimitable tenderness and clearness of expression, 
that beautiful expression of Field’s, which is so appro- 
priately called jew perlé, the charm of which all the hocus- 
pocus of the modern pianists has not been able to 
obliterate. 

Papa entered the room with rapid, mincing steps, and 
walked up to Lyttbochka, who stopped playing the 
moment she noticed him. 


232 BOYHOOD 

“No, keep on, Lyubochka, keep on!” he said, seating 
her on the stool, “ you know how I like to hear you.” 

Lytibochka continued to play, and papa sat long oppo- 
site her, leaning on his arm; then he suddenly jerked 
his shoulder, rose from his chair, and began to pace the 
room. Every time he came near the piano, he stopped 
and gazed long and fixedly at Lytibochka. I observed 
by his movements and gait that he was agitated. After 
crossing the parlour several times, he stopped behind 
Lytibochka’s seat and kissed her black hair, then he 
rapidly turned about, and continued to pace the room. 
When Lyubochka had finished her playing and walked 
up to him with the question: “Was it all right?” he 
silently took her head and began to kiss her brow and 
eyes with a tenderness I had never seen in him before. 

“O Lord, you are weeping!” suddenly said Lytbochka, 
letting the chain of his watch slip out of her hands, and 
fixing her large, wondering eyes upon his face. “ Forgive 
me, darling father, I forgot entirely that it was mother’s 
piece.” 

“Not at all, my dear girl, play it often,” he said in a 
voice quivering with emotion; “if you only knew how 
much good it does me to weep with you!” 

He kissed her once more and, trying to overcome 
his inward agitation, went, with a jerk of his shoulder, 
through the door that led over the corridor to Volddya’s 
room. 

“Véldemar! Shall you be ready soon?” he called 
out, stopping in the middle of the corridor. Just then 
chambermaid Masha passed by him. When she saw her 
master, she lowered her eyes and wanted to make a 
circuit round him. He stopped her. “ You are getting 
prettier all the time,” he said, leaning down to her. 

Mdsha blushed, and lowered her head still more. 
“ Allow me,” she whispered. 

“ Véldemar, will it be long?” papa repeated, shrugging 


PAPA 233 


his shoulder and coughing, when Masha had passed by 
him, and he saw me. 

I loved my father, but a man’s mind lives independ- 
ently from his heart, and frequently harbours incompre- 
hensible and cruel thoughts which offend his feelings. 
Such thoughts came to me, though I endeavoured to 
remove them. 


XXIII. 
GRANDMOTHER 


GRANDMOTHER grew weaker from day to day. Her 
bell, the voice of gruff Gdsha, and the slamming of the 
doors were heard with increasing frequency in her room, 
and she no longer received us in her cabinet, seated in 
her armchair, but in her chamber, lying upon a high bed 
with lace-covered pillows. When I greeted her, I noticed 
a light yellow shining swelling on her hand, and in the 
room was a heavy odour, such as I had smelled five years 
before in mother’s room. The doctor called upon her 
three times a day, and several consultations had taken 
place. But her character, her proud, ceremonious treat- 
ment of all the people of the house, especially of papa, 
had not changed in the least. She stretched her words 
as before, and raised her brows and said: “ My dear!” 

We had not been admitted to her presence for several 
days, when one morning St. Jérdme proposed to me dur- 
ing class hours that I should go out driving with Lyi- 
bochka and Kétenka. Though, while seating myself in 
the sleigh, I noticed that the street was covered with 
straw under grandmother’s windows, and that some 
strange people in blue cloaks were standing near our gate, 
I could not make out why we were sent out driving at 
such an inauspicious hour. On that day, and during the 
drive, Lytibochka and I were, for some reason, in that 
unusually happy frame of mind when every incident, 


every word, every motion caused us to laugh. 
234 


GRANDMOTHER 235 


A peddler trotted across the road clutching his tray, — 
and we laughed. A ragged Jehu, waving the ends of his 
lines, in a gallop caught up with our sleigh,—and we 
laughed. Filipp’s whip caught in the runner of the 
sleigh; he turned around and called out, “The deuce!” 
and we roared with laughter. Mimi said, with a dis- 
satisfied look, that only stupid people laughed without 
cause, and Lytibochka, red with exertion from a subdued 
laugh, looked at me stealthily. Our eyes met, and we 
burst into such a Homeric laugh, that tears stood 
in our eyes, and we were unable to restrain the torrent 
of laughter which was choking us. No sooner had we 
quieted down a little, than I looked at Lytibochka and 
pronounced the secret word which had been current 
among us for some time and which invariably produced 
laughter, and we roared again. 

Just as we were reaching home, I opened my mouth to 
make a face at Lytibochka, when my eyes were struck by 
the lid of a black coffin, which was leaning against the 
wing of the entrance door, and my mouth remained in its 
contorted position. 

“ Votre grand’mére est morte!” said St. Jéréme with 
a pale face, coming out to meet us. 

During all the time that grandmother’s body remained 
in the house, I experienced the heavy feeling of the terror 
of death; that is, the dead body vividly and unpleasantly 
reminded me of the fact that I should die some day, ~a 
feeling which, for some reason, is confounded with grief. 
I did not regret grandmother, and I doubt if any one 
sincerely regretted her. Though the house was full of 
mourning visitors, nobody regretted her death, except one 
person, whose unbounded grief amazed me inexpressibly. 
That person was chambermaid Gdsha. She went to the 
garret, locked herself up there, and, without ceasing to 
weep, cursed herself, tore her hair, would not listen to any 
consolation, and kept on saying that her own death would 


236 BOYHOOD 


be her only consolation after the death of her beloved 
mistress. 

I again repeat that improbability in matters of feeling 
is the surest token of truth. 

Grandmother was no more, but the memories of her 
and the various discussions about her were still living in 
our house. These discussions referred especially to the 
will which she had made before her demise, and which 
nobody knew, except her executor, Prince Ivan Ivdnovich. 
I noticed a certain agitation among the servants of grand- 
mother, and there were frequent conversations about 
what each could expect, and, I must confess, I involun- 
tarily thought with pleasure of our getting an inheritance. 

Six weeks later, Nikol4y — the daily gazette of the 
news of our house —told me that grandmother had left 
her whole estate to Lytibochka, leaving the guardianship 
up to her marriage not to papa, but to Prince Ivan Ivdno- 
vich. 


XXIV. 
I 


But a few months were left before my entering the 
university. I studied well. I not only waited for my 
teachers without fear, but even experienced a certain 
pleasure in my class work. 

I felt happy whenever I recited my lesson clearly and 
distinctly. I was preparing for the mathematical faculty ; 
which selection, to tell the truth, I made only because 
the words sinus, tangent, differential, integral, and so on, 
pleased me very much. 

I was much smaller than Volddya, broad-shouldered 
and flabby, and as homely as ever, which worried me, as 
before. I tried to appear original. One thing consoled 
me: namely, that papa had said about me that I had a 
“clever phiz,” and I firmly believed it. 

St. Jéréme was satisfied with me and praised me, and 
I not only did not hate him, but it even seemed to me 
that I loved him when he said that with my ability, with 
my mind, it would be a shame if I did not accomplish 
this or that. 

My observations in the maids’ chamber had ceased 
long ago, for I felt ashamed to conceal myself behind the 
door, and, besides, my conviction of Masha’s and Vasili’s 
love had, I must say, somewhat cooled me off. I was 
completely cured of this unfortunate passion by Vasili’s 
marriage, for which, at Vasili’s request, I asked papa’s 
permission. 

237 


238 BOYHOOD 


When the newly married couple came, with candy on a 
tray, to thank papa, and when Masha, in a cap with blue 
ribbons, thanked us all for something, kissing each of us 
on the shoulder, I smelled only the perfume of rose po- 
matum on her hair, and did not feel the least emotion. 

I began to be cured altogether of my boyish faults, ex- 
cept the chief fault, which was to cause me no end of 
trouble in my life, — the tendency to philosophize. 


>. Pe 
VOLODYA’S FRIENDS 


ALTHOUGH I played in the company of Volédya’s ac- 
quaintances a part which offended my vanity, I liked to 
sit in his room, when he had guests, and in silence to 
observe everything that took place there. His most fre- 
quent visitors were Adjutant Dubkév and Prince Nekh- 
lyvidov, a student. Dubkdév, who had passed his first 
youth, was a small, muscular fellow, of dark complexion. 
He had rather short legs, but was not bad-looking, and 
was always jolly. He was one of those narrow-minded 
men who please on account of their very narrow-minded- 
ness, who are not able to see objects from various sides, 
and who are eternally carried away by something. The 
reasoning of such people is one-sided and faulty, but 
always open-hearted and persuasive. Even their narrow 
egotism somehow appears pardonable and attractive. In 
addition, Dubkév had a double charm for Volédya and 
me, that of his military appearance and, chiefly, of age, 
which young people are in the habit of mistaking for 
decency (comme 21 faut), which is highly valued in these 
years. And, indeed, Dubkév was what one calls “wn 
homme comme w faut.” One thing displeased me, and 
that was that Volédya seemed to be ashamed before him 
for all my innocent acts, but more especially for my 
youth. 

Nekhlytidov was not good-looking: his small, gray eyes, 


low, straight forehead, disproportionate arms and legs 
239 


240 BOYHOOD 


could not be regarded as beautiful features. His redeem- 
ing features were his very tall stature, soft complexion, 
and beautiful teeth. But his face assumed such an origi- 
nal and energetic character from his narrow, glistening 
eyes and changeable, now severe, now childishly indefinite 
smile, that one could not fail to take notice of him. 

He seemed to be very bashful, because every trifle 
made him blush to his ears; but his bashfulness was dif- 
ferent from mine. The more he blushed, the more deter- 
mination his face expressed, as though he was angry at 
his own weakness. 

Though he appeared to be very friendly with Dubkdév 
and Volddya, it was evident that only chance had brought 
them together. Their views were quite different: Dubkév 
and Volddya avoided everything that resembled serious 
discussion and sentimentality ; Nekhlytidov, on the con- 
trary, was an enthusiast in the highest degree, and in 
spite of ridicule, often entered into the discussion of 
philosophical questions and of sentiments. Volddya and 
Dubké6v were fond of talking of the objects of their love 
(they were generally in love with several women at the 
same time and both with the same woman); Nekhlytidov, 
on the contrary, was always seriously angry when they 
hinted of his love for a red-haired girl. 

Volédya and Dubkévy often allowed themselves to speak 
lightly of their relatives; Nekhlytidov, on the contrary, 
was beside himself with anger at any unfavourable refer- 
ence to his aunt, for whom he felt an ecstatic adoration. 
Volédya and Dubkév drove away after supper without 
Nekhlytidov, whom they called a “ blushing maiden.” 

I was struck from the start by Nekhlytidov, both on 
account of his conversation and his looks. Yet, in spite 
of the fact that I found many common points in our 
views, or, maybe, on account of it,—the feeling with 
which he inspired me when I first saw him was far from 
friendly. 


VOLODYA’S FRIENDS 241 


I did not like his rapid glance, firm voice, haughty 
mien, but, above all, the complete indifference which he 
showed me. I often felt dreadfully like contradicting 
him, when he was talking; I wished to dispute with him, 
to punish him for his haughtiness, and to prove to ~ 
him that I was sensible, even though he did not wish 


to pay the least attention to me. My bashfulness kept 
me back. 


XXVI. 
REFLECTIONS 


VoLépya was lying with his feet on a sofa, and leaning 
on his arm, was reading some French novel, when I, after 
my evening classes, entered his room, as usual. He lifted 
his head for a second to look at me, and again turned to 
his reading, a very simple and natural movement, but 
it made me blush. It seemed to me that in his glance 
was expressed the question why I had come there, and 
that in the rapid inclination of his head was manifested a 
desire of concealing from me the meaning of that glance. 
This tendency to give a meaning to the simplest motion 
was a characteristic of mine at that period. I went up 
to the table and picked up a book; but before I began to 
read it, it occurred to me that it was too ridiculous that, 
not having seen each other for a whole day, we should 
exchange no words. 

“Shall you be at home this evening ?” 

“T do not know. Why ?” 

“ Nothing,” I said, and noticing that there was a hitch 
in the conversation, I took the book and began to read. 

Oddly enough, Volédya and I passed whole hours in 
silence, when face to face with each other, but the pres- 
ence of a third, even silent, person, was sufficient to make 
us enter into most interesting and varied conversations. 
We felt that we knew each other too well, and to know 
each other too much or too little is equally unfavourable 


for a close communion. ‘ 
242 


REFLECTIONS 243 


“Ts Voléddya at home?” was heard Dubkév’s voice in 
the antechamber. 

« Yes,” said Voldédya, taking down his legs and placing 
his book on the table. 

Dubkév and Nekhlytidov, dressed in their overcoats 
and hats, entered the room. 

“ Well, Voldédya, shall we drive to the theatre ?” 

“No, I have no time,” said Volddya, blushing. 

“Don’t say that! Come, let us go!” 

“J have not even a ticket.” 

« You may get all the tickets you want at the entrance.” 

«Wait, I shall be back in a moment,” Volddya said 
evasively, and, jerking his shoulder, left the room. 

I knew that Volddya wanted very much to go to the 
theatre, to which Dubkév had invited him, that he de- 
clined only because he had no money, and that he went 
out to borrow five roubles of the steward against his next 
allowance. 

“Good evening, diplomat!” Dubkév said to me, giving 
me his hand. 

Volddya’s friends called me diplomat, because once at 
dinner grandmother, who was talking of our future, said, 
in their presence, that Volédya would be a soldier, and 
that she hoped to see me in the diplomatic service in a 
black dress coat and with my hair combed & la cog, 
which, in her opinion, were the necessary conditions for 
a diplomatic calling. 

“Where has Volédya gone?” Nekhlytidov asked me. 

“T do not know,” I answered, blushing at the thought 
that they, no doubt, guessed the cause of Voldédya’s leaving. 

“TI suppose he has no money. Am I right? O diplo- 
mat!” he added affirmatively, as he explained my smile. 
“T have not any money, either. And have you any, 
Dubkév ?” 

“Let us see,” said Dubkdv, taking out his purse and 
very carefully feeling a few small coins with his short 


244 BOYHOOD 


fingers. “Here is a five-kopek piece, here is a twenty- 
kopek piece, and then fffu!” he said, making a comic 
gesture with his hand. 

Vclédya entered the room. 

‘+ “ Well, are we going?” 

<NOe 

“ How funny you are!” said Nekhlytidov. “Why did 
you not tell us that you had no money? Take my ticket 
if you wish !” 

« And how about you?” 

“ He will go to the box of his cousins,” said Dubkév. 

“No, I shall not go at all.” 

EY iin 

« Because, as you know, I do not like to stay in a box.” 

eWilry.¢.” 

“J do not like it; I do not feel at ease.” 

«The old story! JI can’t understand why you should 
feel ill at ease, where everybody likes to see you. It is 
ridiculous, mon cher.” 

«What is to be done, si ye suis timide? I am sure 
you have never blushed in all your life, but I do, for the 
merest trifle!” he said, blushing. 

“Savez vous Mor vient votre timidité? Dun exces 
@amour propre, mon cher,’ said Dubkév, in a con- 
descending tone. 

“Where does the excés d'amour propre come in?” 
answered Nekhlytidov, touched to the quick. “On the 
contrary, I am timid because I have too little amour 
propre; it always seems to me that people must feel 
tired and annoyed in my presence — that’s why.” 

“Dress yourself, Volddya!” said Dubkév, taking him 
by his shoulder, and pulling off his coat. “Igndt, your 
master wants to dress!” 

“That’s why I often feel—” continued Nekhlytidov. 

But Dubkédv did not listen to him. “ Tra-la-ta-ra-ra-la- 
la,” he sang out some air. 


REFLECTIONS 245 


“You can’t get rid of me,” said Nekhlytidov. «Tl 
prove to you that bashfulness originates from anything 
but egoism.” 

«You may prove it when we are out driving.” 

“T told you I was not going with you.” 

“Well, then, stay here and prove it to the diplomat; 
he will tell it to us when we return.” 

“«T will prove it,’ replied Nekhlyvidov with childish 
stubbornness, “only come back as soon as possible.” 

“Do you think I am egoistic?” he said, sitting down 
near me. 

Although I had made up my mind in regard to this, 1 
became so timid from this sudden question that it was 
some time before I could answer him. 

“JT think you are,’ I said, feeling my voice tremble, 
and my face flush at the thought that the time had come 
to prove to him that I was a man of sense. “I think 
that every man is egoistic, and that all a man does he does 
through egoism.” 

« What, then, in your opinion, is egoism?” said Nekh- 
lyvidov, smiling rather contemptuously, as I thought. 

« Kgoism,” I said, “is the conviction that I am better 
and wiser than all men.” 

“ But how can all be convinced of this ?” 

“TI do not know whether it is just or not, only nobody 
acknowledges it but me. I am convinced that I am wiser 
than anybody in the world, and I am convinced that 
you, too, have the same conviction as regards yourself.” 

“No, I must say for my own part that I have met 
people whom I have acknowledged to be wiser than I am,” 
said Nekhlytidov. 

“It is impossible,” I answered with conviction. 

“Do you really think so?” said Nekhlytidov, looking 
fixedly at me. 

“Tn all earnest,” I answered. 

And suddenly a thought struck me, which I at once 


246 BOYHOOD 


expressed: “I shall prove it to you. Why do we love 
ourselves more than others? Because we regard ourselves 
better than others, and more worthy of love. If we found 
others to be better than we are, we should love them 
better than ourselves, but this never happens. And if it 
does happen, I am still right,” I added with an involuntary 
smile of self-satisfaction. 

Nekhlytidov was silent for moment. 

“TI never imagined you were such a clever fellow!” he 
said to me, with so kindly, good-hearted a smile that it 
suddenly seemed to me that I was exceedingly happy. 

Praise acts so powerfully not only on the feelings, but 
also on the reason of a man, that under its pleasant 
influence I thought that I had become much wiser, and 
ideas one after another crowded into my head with unusual 
rapidity. From egoism we passed to love, and the con- 
versation upon that theme seemed inexhaustible. Though 
to an outsider these reflections might have appeared as 
the merest rubbish, — they were so obscure and one-sided, 
— they were of high importance to us. Our souls were 
attuned in the same key, so that the least touch of any 
one string found an echo in the other. We had pleasure 
in this very responsiveness of the various strings which 
we touched in our conversation. It seemed to us that 
we lacked words and time to express to each other our 
thoughts, that begged for recognition. 


XXVIL. 
THE BEGINNING OF THE FRIENDSHIP 


SrncE then sufficiently strange, but exceedingly pleasant 
relations established themselves between me and Dmitri 
Nekhlytidov. In the presence of other people he paid 
almost no attention to me; but the moment we happened 
to be alone, we seated ourselves in a cosy corner, and 
began to philosophize, forgetting everything and not notic- 
ing how time flew. 

We discussed the future life, art, government service, 
marriage, education of children, and it never occurred to 
us that all we were saying was the most terrible nonsense. 
This did not occur to us, because the nonsense we were 
talking was wise and agreeable nonsense; and in youth 
we still value reason, and believe in it. In youth all the 
powers of the soul are directed to the future, and this 
future assumes, under the influence of hope, which is based, 
not on the experience of the past, but on an imaginary 
possibility of happiness, such varied, living, and enchanting 
forms, that the mere conceived and imparted dreams of a 
future happiness constitute the genuine happiness of that 
age. In the metaphysical discussions, which formed one 
of the chief subjects of our conversations, I liked that 
minute when the thoughts followed each other faster and 
faster and, becoming ever more abstract, finally reached 
such a degree of mistiness that I no longer saw any 
possibility of expressing them, and, trying to say what I 
thought, said something entirely different. I liked that 

247 


248 BOYHOOD 


minute when, rising ever higher in the sphere of thought, 
I suddenly grasped all its immeasurableness, and became 
conscious of the impossibility of going any farther. 

Once, during the Butter-Week, Nekhlyudov was so 
busy with all kinds of pleasures that, though he called 
several times a day at our house, he did not once speak 
to me, and this so offended me that I again thought of 
him as a haughty and disagreeable man. I only waited 
for an opportunity to show him that I did not in the least 
value his society, and did not have any particular attach- 
ment for him. 

When he wanted to talk to me for the first time, after 
the Butter-Week, I told him that I had to prepare my 
lessons, and went up-stairs ; but fifteen minutes later some- 
body opened the door of the class-room, and Nekhlytidov 
came up to me. 

“« Am I disturbing you?” he said. 

“ No,” I answered, though I had intended to show him 
that I really was busy. 

“Then why did you go away from Voldédya’s room ? 
We have not philosophized for quite awhile. And I am 
so used to it, that I feel as though something were 
wanting.” 

My annoyance passed away in a minute, and Dmitri 
again became in my eyes the good and dear man he was. 

“ You, no doubt, know why I went out,” said I. 

“Perhaps,” he answered, seating himself near me. 
“ But if I do guess it, I cannot tell you, though you may 
tell me,” he said. 

“T will tell you. I went away because I was angry 
with you —not angry, but I was annoyed. I am 
simply always afraid that you despise me because I am 
so young.” 

“ Do you know why we have become so friendly ?” he 
said, answering my confession with a wise, kindly smile, 
“why I love you more than people with whom I am 


THE BEGINNING OF THE FRIENDSHIP 249 


better acquainted, and with whom I have more in 
common? I have just solved it. You have a remarkable, 
rare quality — sincerity.” 

“Yes, I always say those things which I am ashamed 
to confess,” I confirmed him, “ but only to those of whom 
I am sure.” 

«Yes. But to be sure of a man, one must be friends 
with him, but we are not yet friends, Nicolas. You 
remember we said of friendship that, in order to be true 
friends, each must be sure of the other.” 

“Sure that you will not tell anybody what I tell 
you,” I said. “And the most important and interesting 
thoughts are those which we would not tell each other for 
anything. And mean thoughts, — contemptible thoughts 
would never dare to enter our minds, if we knew that we 
had to confess them.” 

“Do you know what idea has struck me, Nicolas?” he 
added, rising from his chair, and rubbing his hands with 
a smile. “ Let us do it, and you will see how useful it will 
be to both of us: let us promise to confess everything to 
each other! We shall know each other, and we shall have 
no scruples; and, not to be afraid of outsiders, let us 
promise never to mention each other to anybody, at any 
time! Let us do it!” 

« All right,” I said. 

And we really did it. I shall tell you later what came 
of it. 

Karr has said that in every attachment there are two 
sides: one loves, the other allows itself to be loved; one 
kisses, the other submits its cheek. That is quite true. 
In our friendship, I kissed, and Dmitri submitted his 
cheek; but he, too, was ready to kiss me. We loved 
equally, because we knew and esteemed each other; but 
this did not prevent his exerting an influence upon me, 
and my submitting to him. 

Of course, under the influence of Nekhlyudov I invol- 


250 BOYHOOD 


untarily appropriated his point of view, the essence of 
which was an ecstatic worship of the ideal of virtue, and 
the conviction that a man’s destiny is continually to per- 
fect himself. At that time it seemed a practicable affair 
to correct humanity at large, to destroy all human vices 
and misfortunes, —and, therefore, it looked easy and 
simple to correct oneself, to appropriate to oneself all vir- 
tues and be happy. 

Still, God alone knows whether these noble dreams of 
youth were ridiculous, and who is to blame that they 
were not realized. 


YOUTH 
A Novel 


1855-57 


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YOUTH 


WHAT I REGARD AS THE BEGINNING OF MY YOUTH 


I HAVE said that my friendship with Dmitri had opened 
up to me a new view of life, its aims and relations. The 
essence of this view consisted in the conviction that man’s 
destiny was a striving for moral perfection, and that this 
perfection was easy, possible, and eternal. But till then 
I merely enjoyed the discovery of new ideas which re- 
sulted from this conviction, and the formation of brilliant 
plans for an active, moral future, while my life proceeded 
in the same petty, tangled, and indolent order. 

So far the virtuous ideas, which my adored friend 
Dmitri, whom I sometimes called to myself in a whisper 
“Charming Mitya,” and I used to discuss in our chats, 
pleased only my reason, and not my feeling. But a time 
came when these ideas burst upon my reason with such a 
fresh power of moral discovery that I became frightened 
at the thought of how much time I had spent in vain, 
and I wished immediately, that very second, to apply all 
those ideas to life, with the firm intention of never being 
false to them. 

This time I regard as the beginning of my youth. 


I was then finishing my sixteenth year. Teachers still 
253 


254 YOUTH 


came to the house, St. Jérdme looked after my studies, 
and I was preparing myself reluctantly, and against my 
will, for the university. Outside of studies, my occupa- 
tions consisted in solitary, disconnected dreams and reflec- 
tions, in practising gymnastics in order to become the 
first strong man in the world, in loitering without any 
definite aim or thought about all the rooms, but especially 
in the corridor of the maids’ side, and in observing myself 
in the looking-glass, from which, however, I always went 
away with a heavy feeling of melancholy and disgust. I 
was not only convinced that my looks were homely, but 
I could not even console myself with the usual consola- 
tions in such circumstances. I could not say that I had 
an expressive, intelligent, or noble countenance. There 
was nothing expressive, — nothing but the commonest, 
coarsest, and ugliest of features; my small, gray eyes 
were, especially when I looked in the mirror, rather dull 
than intelligent. There was even less of manliness in 
me; though I was not at all undersized, and very strong 
for my years, all the features of my face were soft, flabby, 
and undefined. There was not even anything noble in 
them ; on the contrary, my face was like that of a com- 
mon peasant, and such also were my large feet and hands, 
— and all that seemed then a disgraceful thing to me. 


bg 
SPRING 


THE year I entered the university, Easter was late in 
April, so that the examinations were to be the first week 
after Easter, and during Passion Week I was to prepare 
myself for the sacrament, and get ready in general. 

After a wet snow, which Kar] Ivdnovich used to call 
“the son has come to fetch the father,” the weather had 
been for three days calm, warm, and clear. Not a speck 
of snow was to be seen in the streets, and the pasty mud 
had given way to a moist, glistening pavement and rapid 
rivulets. The last drops on the roofs were drying up in 
the sun; in the gardens the buds were swelling on the 
trees ; in the courtyard there was a dry path to the stable, 
past a frozen heap of dung; and near the porch mossy 
grass sprouted between the stones. It was that peculiar 
period of spring which most powerfully affects a human 
soul: a bright, illuminating, but not warm sun, rivulets 
and thawed spots, an aromatic freshness in the air, and a 
gently azure sky with long, transparent clouds. I do not 
know why, but it seems to me that in a large city the 
effect of this first period of the new-born spring is more 
perceptible and powerful,— one sees less, but surmises 
more. 

I was standing near the window, through which the 
morning sun was casting athwart the double panes its 
dusty rays upon the floor of my noisome class-room, and 


was solving some long algebraical equation on the black- 
255 


256 YOUTH 


board. In one hand I held a torn, coverless algebra of 
Franker, in the other a small piece of chalk, with which 
I had soiled both my hands, my face, and the elbows of 
my half-dress coat. Nikolay, in an apron and rolled-up 
sleeves, was breaking off the putty and unbending the 
nails of the window that opened on the garden. His oc- 
cupation and the noise which he made distracted my 
attention. Besides, I was in a very bad and dissatisfied 
mood. Everything somehow went against me; I had 
made a mistake in the beginning of the calculation, so 
that I had to start again; I twice dropped the chalk; I 
felt that my face and hands were all soiled; the sponge 
got lost somewhere; the noise which Nikolay produced 
made me dreadfully nervous. I wanted to get angry and 
to grumble ; I threw down the chalk and the algebra, and 
began to walk up and down the room. I recalled that 
we had to go to confession that very day, and that I had 
to abstain from everything bad. Suddenly a meek spirit 
came over me, and I walked up to Nikolay. 

“Let me help you, Nikolay,” I said, endeavouring to 
give my voice a meek expression. The thought that I 
was doing right in suppressing my anger and in helping 
him increased my meek mood still more. 

The putty was knocked off, the nails unbent; but al- 
though Nikolay jerked at the crosspiece with all his 
might, the frame did not move. 

“Tf the frame will come out at once, when I pull with 
him,” I thought, “I shall take it to be a sin to work any 
more to-day.” The frame moved to one side and came 
out. 

“ Where shall I take it to?” I asked. 

«Permit me, I will do it myself,” answered Nikolay, 
evidently surprised, and rather dissatisfied with my zeal. 
“T must not get them mixed up, for I have them there 
by numbers, in the lumber-room.” 

“T will look out,” I said, lifting the frame. 


fy 


SPRING 257 


It seemed to me that if the lumber-room were two 
versts away, and the frame twice as heavy, I should have 
been very well satisfied. I wanted to exert myself while 
obliging Nikoléy. When I returned to the room, the 
small bricks and the salt pyramids! were already lying 
on the sill, and Nikoldy, with a wing duster, was sweep- 
ing the sand and the drowsy flies through the open win- 
dow. The fresh, fragrant air penetrated the room and 
filled it. Through the window was heard the din of the 
city and the chirping of the sparrows in the garden. 

All objects were brilliantly iluminated, the room 
looked merrier, a light spring breeze agitated the leaves 
of my algebra and the hair on Nikoldy’s head. I went 
up to the window, sat upon it, bent down to the garden, 
and fell to musing. 

A novel, exceedingly powerful and pleasant sensation 
suddenly penetrated into my soul. The damp earth, 
through which here and there burst bright-green blades 
of grass, with their yellow stalks; the rills glistening in 
the sun, along which meandered pieces of earth and 
chips; the blushing twigs of the lilac bushes with their 
swelling buds swaying under the very window; the busy 
chirping of the birds that swarmed in the bushes; the 
black fence wet with the thawing snow; but, above all, 
that aromatic moist air and joyous sun spoke to me dis- 
tinctly and clearly of something new and beautiful, which, 
though I am not able to tell it as it appeared to me, I 
shall attempt to tell as I conceived it. Everything spoke 
to me of beauty, happiness, and virtue; it told me that 
all that was easy and possible for me, that one thing could 
not be without the other, and even that beauty, happiness, 
and virtue were one and the same. “ How was it I did 
not understand it before? As bad as I was in the past, 
so good and happy shall I become in the future!” I said 
to myself. “I must at once, this very minute, become 


1Placed on the sand between the double windows. 


258 YOUTH 


another man, and live another life.” In spite of this, I 
sat for a long time on the window, dreaming and doing 
nothing. 

Have you ever happened to fall asleep on a gloomy, 
rainy summer day, and, awaking at sundown, to open 
your eyes; through the broadening quadrilateral of the 
window, beneath the canvas awning, that, blown up by 
the wind, strikes its rod against the window-sill, to ob- 
serve the shady, lilac side of the avenue of lindens, wet 
from rain, and the damp garden path, illuminated by the 
slanting rays of the sun; suddenly to hear the merry life 
of the birds in the garden; to see the insects that, trans- 
lucent in the sun, hover in the opening of the window; 
to smell the fragrance of the air after the rain; to think 
“How ashamed I am to have slept through such an even- 
ing ;” and hurriedly to jump up, in order to run into the 
garden to enjoy life? If such a thing has happened to 
you, you have a picture of that powerful feeling which I 
experienced at that time. 


TI. 
DREAMS 


“To-pay I shall confess and cleanse myself of all my 
sins,” I thought, “and I never again —” (here I thought of 
all the sins that most tormented me). “I shall go every 
Sunday to church, and afterward shall read the Gospel for 
a whole hour; and, from every twenty-five-rouble bill, 
which I shall receive every month as soon as I enter the 
university, I shall certainly give two and a half roubles 
(a tithe) to the poor, without letting anybody know it; 
and not to mere beggars shall I give it, but I shall hunt 
up some destitute people, an orphan or an old woman, of 
whom nobody knows. 

“T shall have a separate room (no doubt St. Jéréme’s), 
and I shall fix it up myself and keep it in wonderful 
order; I shall not permit a servant to do anything for 
me. For is he not just such a man as I am? For the 
same reason I shall walk every day to the university (and 
if they give me a vehicle, I shall sell it, and use the 
money for the poor), and promptly execute everything” 
(what that “everything” was I should not have been able 
at that time to tell, but I vividly understood and felt that 
“everything” of a sensible, moral, and blameless life). 

“T shall take down the lectures, and even prepare my 
subjects in advance, so that I shall be first in the first 
year, and shall write a dissertation. In the second year 
I shall know everything in advance, and they will be able 


to promote me at once to the third year, so that at eight- 
259 


260 YOUTH 


een years of age I shall graduate as a Candidate with 
two golden medals; then I shall get my master’s and my 
doctor’s degree, and I shall be the first learned man in 
Russia, I may even become the greatest scholar in 
Europe. 

“ Well, and then?” I asked myself; but I happened to 
think that these dreams were proud, consequently, a sin 
which I should have to tell that very evening to the 
priest, and I returned to the beginning of my reflections. 

“To prepare my lectures, I shall walk to the Sparrow 
Hills. There I shall choose a spot under some tree, where 
I can read them over. Sometimes I shall take a lunch 
along with me, some cheese, or pasties from Pedotti, or 
something of the kind. I shall rest awhile, after which 
I shall read a good book, or draw a landscape, or play an 
instrument (I must by all means learn to play the flute). 
Then, she, too, will walk out to the Sparrow Hills, and 
she will some day walk up to me, and ask who I am. I 
shall glance sadly at her, and say that I am the son of 
a clergyman, and that I am happy only when I am here 
alone, all sole alone. She will give me her hand, will 
say something, and sit down by my side. Thus, we shall 
go there every day and be friends, and I shall kiss her — 
no, that is not good, on the contrary, from to-day I shall 
never again look at women. I shall never, never go to 
the maids’ room, not even near it; three years later I shall 
be of age, and shall certainly marry. 

“T shall take exercise as much as possible, and practise 
gymnastics every day, so that when I am twenty-five 
years old, I shall be stronger than Rappeau. The first 
day I shall hold twenty pounds in my outstretched arm, 
the next day twenty-one pounds, the third twenty-two, 
and so on, until at last one hundred and sixty pounds in 
each hand, so that I shall be stronger than anybody 
among the servants ; and if anybody dares to insult me, or 
to refer disrespectfully to her, I shall take him just by his 


DREAMS 261 


chest, shall raise him with my hand some five feet from 
the ground, and hold him awhile, to make him feel my 
strength, and then let him go ; however, that is not good ; 
no, it will not do any harm, I sha’n’t do anything to him: 
I shall only prove to him that I—” 

Let no one accuse me that the dreams of my youth 
were just as childish as the dreams of my childhood and 
boyhood. I am convinced that if it is my lot to live to 
an old age, and if my story overtakes my old age, I, as a 
man of seventy years, shall dream just such impossible, 
childish dreams, as in the past. I shall dream of some 
charming Mary who will fall in love with me, the tooth- 
less old man, as she fell in love with Mazeppa; of my 
weak-minded son suddenly becoming minister by some 
strange accident; or of my suddenly losing millions. I 
am convinced that there is not a human being or an age 
that is free from this benign, consoling ability to dream. 
But, except for the common feature of their impossibility 
and their fairy-like nature, the dreams of every man and 
every age have their distinguishing characteristics. At 
that period, which I regard as the extreme limit of boy- 
hood and beginning of youth, at the basis of my dreams 
were four sentiments: the love for her, an imaginary 
woman, of whom I dreamt ever in the same way, and 
whom I expected to meet somewhere at any minute. 
This she was partly Sdénichka, partly Masha, Vasfli’s wife, 
while washing linen in the trough, and partly a woman 
with pearls on her white neck, whom I had seen long ago 
in the theatre, in a box near us. My second sentiment 
was the love of love. I wanted everybody to know and 
love me. I wanted to say my name “ Nikoldy Irténev,” 
and have every one struck by this information, and sur- 
round me and thank me for something. The third senti- 
ment was a hope for some unusual, vain happiness, — 
such a strong and firm hope that it passed into insanity. 
I was so convinced that: very soon I should, by some 


262 YOUTH 


extraordinary occurrence, become the richest and most dis- 
tinguished man in the world, that I continually lived 
in an agitated expectancy of some fairy happiness. I was 
waiting for it to begin, when I should obtain all that a 
man may wish, and I was always in a hurry, lest it 
should begin where I was not. My fourth and chief sen- 
timent was my self-disgust and repentance, but a repent- 
ance which so closely welded with the hope of happiness, 
that there was nothing sad in it. It seemed to me so 
easy and natural to tear myself away from all my past, 
to transform and forget everything which was before, and 
to begin life with all its relations entirely anew, in order 
that the past should not oppress nor bind me. I even 
found pleasure in my disgust with the past, and tried to 
see it blacker than it was. The blacker the circle of my 
memories of the past, the brighter and cleaner stood out 
from it the bright and clean point of the present, and 
streamed the rainbow colours of the future. This voice 
of repentance and passionate desire for perfection was the 
main new sensation of my soul at that epoch of my 
development, and it was this which laid a new founda- 
tion for my views of myself, of people, and of the whole 
world. 

Beneficent, consoling voice, which since then has so 
often arisen suddenly and boldly against all lies in those 
sad moments, when the soul in silence submitted to the 
power of deceit and debauch in life, which has angrily 
accused the past, has indicated the bright point of the 
present, causing one to love it, and has promised happi- 
ness and well-being in the future, — beneficent, consoling 
voice! will vou ever cease to be heard ? 


ANG 
OUR FAMILY CIRCLE 


Papa was rarely at home during this spring. But when 
it did happen, he was exceedingly merry, strummed his 
favourite airs on the piano, smiled gaily at us, and joked 
us all, especially Mimi; he would say, for example, that 
the Tsarévich of Georgia had seen Mimi while she was out 
driving, and had fallen so in love with her that he had 
petitioned the Synod for a divorce; that I was to be 
appointed secretary to the ambassador at Vienna, — and 
he announced these items of news to us with a serious 
countenance ; he frightened Katenka with spiders, of which 
she was afraid; he was very kind to our friends Dubkdév 
and Nekhlytidov, and continually told us and our guests 
his plans for the next year. Although these plans 
changed nearly every day, and contradicted each other, 
they were so attractive that we listened to them with 
pleasure, and Lytibochka looked at papa’s mouth without 
winking, lest she should lose a single word. Now the 
plan was for him to leave us at the university in Moscow, 
and go himself with Lytibochka to Italy for two years; 
now, to buy an estate in the Crimea, on its southern 
shore, and to go there every summer; now, to settle with 
the whole family in St. Petersburg, and so on. Besides the 
unusual merriment, another change had of late taken place 
in papa, at which I marvelled very much. He had had 
made for himself a fashionable suit, —an olive-coloured 


dress coat, fashionable pantaloons with foot-straps, and a 
263 


264 YOUTH 


long wadded overcoat, which was very becoming to him, 
and frequently he was scented with perfume, when he 
drove out to make calls, but especially at the house of a 
lady, of whom Mimi never spoke but with sighs and with 
a face upon which one almost could read the words: 
“Poor orphans! Unlucky passion! It is well that she is 
no more.” I found out from Nikolay, for papa would not 
tell us anything about his gaming, that he had been par- 
ticularly lucky at cards that winter; he had won an 
immense sum, which he had deposited in the bank, and 
in the spring he did not want to play again. No doubt 
because he was afraid of the temptation, he wanted to 
leave for the country as soon as possible, He had even 
decided not to wait for my entering the university, but to 
leave immediately after Easter with the girls for Petrév- 
skoe, whither Volddya and I were to go later. 

Volédya was all that winter, until spring, inseparable 
from Dubkév, but his relation with Dmitri was beginning 
to cool off. Their chief entertainments, so far as I could 
conclude from the conversations which I heard, consisted 
in drinking champagne, driving in sleighs by the windows 
of a lady, with whom they were both, I think, in love, 
and in dancing vis-a-vis, not at children’s, but at real 
balls. This latter circumstance separated us very much, 
though we loved each other. We felt too great a differ- 
ence between a boy who had teachers coming to him, and 
a man who danced at the balls of grown people, ever to 
make up our minds to tell each other our secrets. 

Katenka was quite a young lady, and read a lot of 
novels, and the thought that she would marry soon did 
not seem a joke any longer; yet, though Voldédya himself 
was a young man, they did not become very intimate, and, 
it seemed, even despised each other. In general, when- 
ever Kadtenka was alone at home, nothing interested her 
but novels, and she suffered ennui; but when there were 
outside gentlemen present, she became very lively and 


OUR FAMILY CIRCLE 265 


agreeable, and used her eyes in such a way, that I was 
unable to make out what she meant. Later I learned 
from a conversation of hers that the only permissible 
coquetry for a maiden was that of the eyes, and so I was 
able to explain to myself those strange, unnatural ges- 
tures with the eyes, which did not seem to surprise others. 

Lyttbochka was beginning tc wear a very long dress, 
so that her crooked legs could not be seen, but she was 
the same cry-baby she had been before. Now she was 
dreaming of marrying, not a hussar, but a singer or musi- 
cian, and for this purpose she applied herself zealously to 
music. 

St. Jérd6me, who knew that he would stay in our house 
only until the end of my examinations, had found a place 
at the house of some count, and ever since had looked 
down contemptuously on our people. He was rarely at 
home, began to smoke cigarettes, which then was a sign 
of dandyism, and continually whistled some jolly airs 
through a visiting-card. 

Mimi grew sadder from day to day, and did not 
expect anything good from any of us, ever since we had 
grown up. 

When I came to dinner I found only Mimi, Katenka, 
Lytibochka, and St. JérOme in the dining-room. Papa was 
not at home, and Volddya was preparing for his examina- 
tion with his companions in his room, and had ordered 
his dinner to be sent up to him. Of late, Mimi generally 
occupied the place of honour at the table, but none of us 
respected her, and so the dinner lost much of its charm. 
The dinner no longer was, as with mamma and grand- 
mother, a ceremony which at a certain hour united the 
whole family, and divided the day into halves. We 
allowed ourselves to be late, to arrive only at the second 
course, to drink wine in tumblers (an example set by St. 
Jérdme), to lean back in the chair, to rise before the end 
of the dinner, and similar liberties. It was quite differ- 


266 YOUTH 


ent at Petrdvskoe, when at two o’clock ail sat in the 
sitting-room washed and dressed for dinner, chatting mer- 
rily until the appointed hour. Precisely at the moment 
when the clock in the officiating-room growled, in order 
to strike two, Féka softly walked in, with a dignified and 
somewhat austere face, holding his napkin over his arm. 
«Dinner is served!” he announced in a loud, drawling 
voice, and everybody went to the dining-room with a 
happy and satisfied countenance, the older people in 
front, the younger ones behind, rustling their starched 
petticoats and creaking with their boots and shoes, — 
and conversing in an undertone, they all seated them- 
selves at their proper places. How different, too, it was 
in Moscow, when all, speaking softly, stood before the 
table which was set in the parlour, waiting for grand- 
mother, to whom Gavrilo had gone to announce that the 
meal was served! Suddenly the door opened, there was 
heard the rustle of a dress and the shuffling of feet, and 
grandmother, in a cap with some extraordinary lilac 
ribbon, sailed in sideways, smiling or looking gloomy, 
according to the condition of her health. Gavrilo rushed 
to her armchair, the chairs were moved, and feeling a 
chill pass down my back,—a foreboding of a good 
appetite, —I would take up the damp, starched napkin 
and munch a crust of bread, and, rubbing my hands 
under the table in impatient and pleasant anticipation, 
would look at the steaming plates of soup, which the 
majordomo poured out according to rank, age, and grand- 
mother’s considerate attention. 

Now I no longer experienced any pleasure or agitation, 
when I came to dinner. 

The gossip of Mimi, St. Jéréme, and the girls about the 
terrible boots of the teacher of Russian, about trimmings 
on the dresses of the Princesses Korndékov and so forth, — 
their gossip, which formerly used to inspire me with gen- 
uine loathing that I did not try to conceal, especially before 


OUR FAMILY CIRCLE 267 


Lytibochka and Katenka, did not ruffle my new, virtuous 
temper. I was exceedingly meek ; I smiled and respectfully 
listened to them, respectfully asked them to pass me the 
kvas, and agreed with St. Jéré6me, who corrected a phrase 
of mine which I had used at dinner, remarking that it 
was more elegant to say je puis than ye peux. I must, 
however, confess that I was a little disappointed because 
nobody paid any attention to my meekness and virtue. 
Lytibochka showed me after dinner a piece of paper on 
which she had marked down all her sins; I found that it 
was all very well, but that it was better still to write 
down one’s sins in one’s soul, and that her way was not 
“just the right thing.” 

« Why is it not the right thing?” asked Lyttbochka. 

“ Well, this is good, too; but you will not understand 
me.” And I went up-stairs, saying to St. Jérdme that I 
went to study, but, in reality, to write out, in the hour 
and a half that were left before the confession, a schedule 
of all my duties and occupations for my whole life, to . 
put down on paper the aim of my life and the rules from 
which I was never to depart in all my actions. 


M's 
THE RULES 


I TOOK a sheet of paper, and first intended to consider 
the schedule of my obligations and occupations for the 
next year. I had to line the paper, but as I could not 
find the ruler, I used the Latin lexicon for it. After 
drawing the pen along the lexicon and removing the latter, 
I discovered that I had made a long puddle of ink on the 
paper, instead of a line, and that, since the lexicon was 
not long enough, the line had bent downward along its 
soft edge. I took another sheet and, moving the lexicon 
carefully, managed to get it ruled after a fashion. 

I divided my duties into three categories: into duties 
to myself, to my neighbours, and to God. Then I began 
to write down the first, but there turned up so many of 
them, and so many kinds and subdivisions of them, that 
I had to write first “ Rules of Life,’ and not until then 
to consider the schedule. I took six sheets of paper, 
sewed them into a book, and wrote above, “ Rules of Life.” 
These words were written so crookedly and unevenly, 
that I long considered whether I had not better rewrite 
them, and felt annoyed, as I looked at the torn schedule 
and the monstrous heading. “Why is everything so 
beautiful and clear in my soul, and yet so horrible on 
paper, and in life in general, when I want to apply to it 
something I am thinking of ?” 

“The father confessor has come. Please come down- 


stairs to hear the rules!” Nikoldy announced. 
268 


THE RULES 269 


I concealed the book in the table, looked in the mirror, 
brushed my hair upwards, which, in my opinion, gave me 
a pensive appearance, and went down into the sofa-room, 
where a table was placed with the image and the burning 
wax candles upon it. Papa entered the room through 
another door at the same time with me. The priest, a 
gray-haired monk, blessed papa with the stern mien of an 
old man. Papa kissed his small, broad, dry hand. I did 
the same. 

“Call Véldemar!” said papa. “ Where is he? But no, 
he is preparing for the sacrament at the university.” 

“ He is busy with the prince,” said Kdétenka, and looked 
at Lyubochka. Lytbochka suddenly blushed and, frowning 
as though she were in pain, left the room. I followed 
her. She stopped in the sitting-room, and wrote something 
down on the paper with her pencil. 

“« What, have you committed a new sin?” I asked. 

“No, nothing, just nothing,” she answered, blushing. 

Just then was heard Dmitri’s voice in the antechamber, 
bidding Voldédya good-bye. 

“ Well, everything is a temptation for you,” said Katenka, 
entering the room and turning to Lytibochka. 

I could not make out what was the matter with Lyt- 
bochka: she was confused, so that tears appeared in her 
eyes, and her agitation, reaching its highest limit, passed 
into annoyance with herself and with Kéatenka, who 
evidently was teasing her. 

“One can see you are a foreigner” (nothing could be 
more offensive to Katenka than being called a foreigner, 
and Lytibochka used the word intentionally); “before 
this mystery,’ she continued in a solemn voice, “ you 
disturb me on purpose — you ought to understand — 
it is not a trifling matter.” 

“Do you know, Nikdlenka, what she wrote down?” 
said Kdétenka, who was offended by the name of foreigner. 
“She wrote —” 


270 YOUTH 


“T did not expect you to be as mean as that,” said 
Lytibochka, blubbering, as she left us. “ At such moments 
you on purpose, all my life, lead me into sin. Ido not 
bother you with my sentiments and sufferings.” 


VL 
THE CONFESSION 


WirtH these and similar distracting reflections I returned 
to the sofa-room, when all had gathered there, and the 
priest rose, ready to read the prayer before the confession. 
But when, amidst a general silence, was heard the clear, 
stern voice of the monk saying the prayer, and especially 
when he pronounced the words to us, “ Lay open all your 
transgressions without shame, concealment, or justification, 
and your soul shall be cleansed before God, but if you 
conceal anything, you shall incur a great sin,” the feeling 
of devout tremor, which I had experienced in the morning 
at the thought of the impending mystery, returned to me. 
IT even found pleasure in the consciousness of this state, 
and I tried to retain it, by arresting all the thoughts 
which came to my mind, and by endeavouring to fear 
something. 

Papa went first to confession. He remained very 
long in grandmother’s room, and all that time we were 
silent in the sofa-room, or in a whisper talked about who 
would come next. Then, the voice of the monk saying 
the prayer was once more heard in the door, and papa’s 
steps. The door creaked, and he came out, coughing, as 
was his habit, jerking his shoulder, and not looking at any 
of us. 

“ Now, you go, Lytiba, but be sure and say everything. 
You are a great sinner, you know,” merrily spoke papa, 
pinching her cheek. 

271 


272 YOUTH 


Lytibochka grew pale and blushed, took her note out 
of her apron and hid it again, and, lowering her head and 
somehow shortening her neck, as if expecting a blow from 
above, passed through the door. She did not stay there 
long, but when she issued thence, her shoulders were 
convulsed with sobs. 

Finally, after pretty Katenka had returned through the 
door smiling, my turn arrived. I went into the dimly 
lighted room with the same dull fear and the same desire 
consciously to increase that fear. The priest stood before 
the reading-desk, and slowly turned his face to me. 

I passed not more than five minutes in grandmother’s 
room, and I came out of it happy and, as I was then 
convinced, completely purified, morally regenerated, and a 
new man. Although I was unpleasantly affected by the 
old circumstance of life, by the old rooms, the old furni- 
ture, my old figure (I wished that all the external things 
might have changed as much as I thought I had changed 
internally), in spite of it all, I remained in this blissful 
frame of mind up to the time when I went to bed. 

I was falling asleep, going over in my imagination all 
the sins from which I had been cleansed, when suddenly 
I recalled a shameful sin which I had concealed at the 
confession. The words of the prayer before the confession 
came to my mind and continually dinned in my ears. My 
peace was gone at once. “But if you conceal any- 
thing, you shall incur a great sin,” resounded in my ears 
without interruption, and I saw myself as such a terrible 
sinner, that there was no adequate punishment for me. 
I long tossed from side to side, reflecting on my situation 
and awaiting the divine punishment at any time, and 
even sudden death,—a thought which induced an in- 
describable terror in me. All at once a happy thought 
came to me: the next morning, soon after daybreak, I 
would walk or drive to the priest in the monastery, to 
confess once more, and I quieted down. 


WH. 
DRIVE TO THE MONASTERY 


I AWOKE several times during the night, fearing to 
sleep through the morning, and at six oclock I was 
already on my feet. Day was just dawning. I put on 
my clothes and my boots, which lay rumpled and un- 
brushed near my bed, because Nikolay had not had time 
to take them away, and without praying or washing, I for 
the first time in my life went out by myself into the 
street. 

On the opposite side, the misty, chilly dawn gleamed 
behind the green roof of a large house. A fairly strong 
vernal morning frost fettered the mud and rills, stung my 
feet, and pinched my face and hands. In our lane there 
was no cabman with whom I could drive there and back 
at once as I had hoped. Only some wagons were slowly 
going down the Arbdt, and two stone-masons passed, 
chatting, on the sidewalk. After I had walked some 
thousand paces, I began to come across men and women 
who were going to market with their baskets, and water- 
carts which were driving to get their barrels filled; a 
cake-seller walked out on the cross-road ; a bakery opened 
its door; and at the Arbdt gates I fell in with a cabman, 
an old man, who was asleep and nodding in his faded, 
grayish blue and patched-up vehicle. He was evidently 
still half asleep when he asked twenty kopeks for driving 
me to the monastery and back, but he suddenly came to 


his senses, and when I was about to take my seat, he 
273 


274 YOUTH 


whipped up his horses with the ends of his reins, and 
drove away from me. “I have to feed the horse! I can’t 
take you, sir!” he mumbled. 

I stopped him after much persuasion, by offering him 
forty kopeks. He pulled up his horse, cautiously ex- 
amined me, and said: “Take your seat, sir!” I must say 
I was a little afraid he would take me to some blind 
alley, to rob me. Getting hold of the collar of his badly 
torn cloak, thus ruthlessly laying bare the wrinkled neck 
over his stooping shoulders, I climbed on the blue, saddle- 
formed, shaky seat, and we rattled along the Vozdvi- 
zhenka. On the way down I noticed that the back of 
the vehicle was patched with a piece of greenish material, 
the same that his cloak was made of; this circumstance 
for some reason quieted me, and I no longer was afraid 
that he would take me to a blind alley, to rob me. 

The sun had risen quite high, and brilliantly ilumi- 
nated the cupolas of the churches, when we drove up to the 
monastery. In the shade there was still some frost, but 
all along the road flowed rapid, turbid rills, and the horse 
splashed in the thawing mud. After passing through the 
monastery enclosure, I asked the first person whom I met 
where to find the father confessor. 

“There is his cell,” said the monk, stopping for a 
minute and pointing to a small house with a porch. 

“T thank you very much,” I said. 

What could the monks have thought of me, as they 
gazed at me, upon issuing, one after another, from the 
church? I was neither a man, nor a child; my face 
was not washed, my hair not combed, my clothes were 
covered with feathers, my boots were unblacked and 
muddy. To what category of men did the monks men- 
tally refer me as they gazed at me? They certainly 
surveyed me attentively. I continued to walk in the 
direction which the young monk had pointed out to me. 

An old man in black garments, with thick gray eye 


DRIVE TO THE MONASTERY 240 


brows, met me on the narrow path that led to the cells 
and asked me what I wanted. 

There was a minute when I wanted to say “ Nothing,” 
trun back to the cab, and drive home, but, in spite of his 
threatening eyebrows, the old man’s countenance inspired 
confidence. I said that I wanted to see the father con- 
fessor, giving his name. 

“Come, young gentleman, I will take you there!” he 
said, turning back, and evidently guessing my predica- 
ment. “The father is at morning mass, but he will be 
here soon.” 

‘ He opened the door, and through a clean hall and ante- 
chamber led me over a neat canvas strip to the cell. 

“ You wait here,” he said, with a kind-hearted, soothing 
expression, and went out. 

The room in which I found myself was very small and 
was kept exceedingly clean. The furniture consisted of a 
small table covered with oilcloth, standing between two 
tiny double windows, upon which stood two pots of gera- 
niums, of a small stand with images and a lamp hanging 
before them, of one armchair and two straight chairs. In 
the corner hung a clock, with a flower design on its face 
and brass weights on a chain; on the partition, which 
was connected with the ceiling by whitewashed wooden 
crosspieces (behind which, no doubt, was a bed), two 
cowls hung upon nails. 

The windows faced a white wall which was within six 
feet of them. Between them and the wall was a small 
lilac bush. No sound reached the room from without, so 
that in that silence the even, pleasant click of the pendu- 
lum appeared as a loud noise. The moment I was left 
alone in that quiet corner, all my former thoughts and 
reminiscences leaped out of my head as if they had never 
been there, and I was all merged in inexpressibly pleasant 
contemplation. That faded nankeen hood with thread- 
bare lining, those well-thumbed black leather bindings of 


276 YOUTH 


the books with their brass clasps, those turbidly green 
flowers with their carefully watered earth and washed 
leaves, but particularly that monotonous, broken sound of 
the pendulum, spoke to me distinctly of a new, heretofore 
unfamiliar life, of a life of seclusion, prayer, and quiet, 
peaceful happiness. 

“Mouths pass, years pass,” I thought, “and he is 
always alone, always calm, always feels that his con- 
science is clean before God and that his prayer will 
be heard by him.” I sat about half an hour in my chair, 
trying not to move and not to breathe audibly, in order 
not to disturb the harmony of the sounds that told me 
so much. And the pendulum continued ticking, louder 
toward the right, softer toward the left. 


VIE. 
MY SECOND CONFESSION 


THE steps of the priest broke my meditation. 

“Good morning,” he said, smoothing his gray hair with 
his hand. “ What do you wish ?” 

I asked him to bless me, and with especial pleasure 
kissed his small yellow hand. 

When I explained to him my request, he said nothing, 
but walked up to the images and began the confession. 

When the confession was finished, and I, overcoming 
my shame, told him all that was upon my soul, he placed 
his hands upon my head, and pronounced with his melo- 
dious, quiet voice: “ The blessing of the heavenly Father 
be over you, my son, and may He for ever preserve your 
faith, meekness, and humility. Amen.” 

I was very happy. Tears of bliss welled up in my 
throat, I kissed the fold of his kerseymere cowl, and 
raised my head. The monk’s countenance was serene. 

I felt I was enjoying the sensation of contrition, and 
fearing lest it should be dispersed, I hastily bade the 
confessor good-bye, and, without looking on either side, in 
order not to be distracted, left the enclosure and again 
seated myself in the jogging, patched-up vehicle. But 
the jolting of the carriage and the motley aspect of the 
objects that flashed by my eyes soon dispelled that feel- 
ing, and I was thinking now of how the father confessor 
must be reflecting that he had never, in all his life, met, 


nor ever should meet, such a beautiful soul in a young 
277 


278 YOUTH 


man such as I was, and even that there could not be the 
like of me. I was convinced of this; and this conviction 
induced in me a feeling of that kind of happiness which 
demands that it shall be imparted to somebody. 

I was dying to talk to somebody; and as there was no 
one near at hand but the cabman, I turned to him. 

“Say, was I gone long?” I asked. 

“Well, rather long, and it is time to feed the horses, 
for I am a night cabman,” answered the old driver, who, 
with the sun, had become comparatively livelier than he 
had been before. 

“Tt seemed to me that I was gone but a minute,” I 
said. “Do you know why I went to the monastery ?” 
I added, seating myself in the lower part of the vehicle, 
which was nearer to the old man. 

“What business is that of ours? Wherever our pas- 
sengers tell us to go, there we go,” he answered. 

“ Still, what do you think, why ?” 

“ Well, I suppose you went to buy a lot to bury some- 
body in,” he said. 

“No, my friend. Do you know why I went there?” 

“ How can I know, sir?” he repeated. 

The cabman’s voice seemed so kindly that I decided, for 
his edification, to tell him the cause of my visit, and also 
the feeling which I was experiencing. 

“Tf you wish, I will tell you. You see —” 

And I told him everything, and described all my 
beautiful feelings to him. I even now blush at the 
thought of it. 

“ Indeed, sir,” the cabman said, incredulously. 

He remained silent for quite awhile and sat immova- 
ble, now and then fixing the fold of his cloak, which kept 
disarranging itself, between his striped legs that leaped 
about in their huge boots on the foothold of the vehicle. 
I concluded that he, too, was of the same opinion in 
regard to me as the priest; that is, that there was not in 


MY SECOND CONFESSION 279 


the whole world another young man so beautiful. He 
suddenly turned round to me. 

“ Well, sir, yours is a gentlemanly affair!” 

“What?” I asked. 

“Your affair, I say, is a gentleman’s affair!” he re- 
peated, mumbling with his toothless lips. 

“No, he did not understand me,” I thought, and I did 
not say anything to him until we reached the house. 

Not the feeling of contrition and piety itself, but satis- 
faction at having experienced it lasted during my whole 
ride, in spite of all the crowd that moved about the 
streets in the bright sunshine; but the moment I reached 
home, that feeling vanished completely. I did not have 
the forty kopeks to pay the driver. Majordomo Gavrilo, 
to whom I was already in debt, would not loan me any 
more. When the driver saw me twice running across the 
yard in order to get the money, he guessed what I was 
about, climbed down from his vehicle and, in spite of his 
apparent kindliness, began to cry aloud, with the evident 
desire of stinging me, that there were certain cheats who 
did not pay for their rides. 

Everybody at home was still asleep, so that I could not 
borrow the money from any one but the servants. Finally, 
Vasili, who liked me and remembered the service which I 
had done him, paid the driver, having first exacted my 
most solemn word of honour, which, however, as I saw by 
his face, he did not believe in the least. Thus the feeling 
went off as in smoke. When I dressed myself for church, 
in order to go with the others to receive the sacrament, 
and discovered that my clothes had not been mended and 
I could not put them on, I committed a lot of sins. Put- 
ting on another suit, I went to the sacrament in a strange 
condition of hastiness of thought and with a complete 
suspicion of my beautiful intentions. 


IX. 
HOW I PREPARED FOR THE EXAMINATIONS 


On Thursday of Easter Week, papa, sister, and Mimi, 
with Kdétenka, went away to the country, so that in 
grandmother’s large house only Volddya, St. Jérdme, and 
I were left. My frame of mind on the day of the con- 
fession and of my visit to the monastery had completely 
disappeared, and had left behind it only a dim, though 
pleasant, memory, which was more and more drowned by 
new impressions of a free life. 

The note-book with the title “ Rules of Life” was put 
away with the other exercise books. Although the idea 
that it was possible to compose rules for all circumstances 
of life, and always to be guided by them, pleased me and 
seemed to me very simple and at the same time great, — 
and I had intended by all means to apply the rules to 
life, —I somehow forgot that it had to be done right 
away, and kept postponing it to some future time. I 
was pleased to find that every idea which came to my 
mind fitted precisely into one of the subdivisions of my 
rules and duties: into the rules in regard to my neigh- 
bour, or to myself, or to God. “I shall then write it down 
in that category, together with the mass of other ideas that 
will occur to me about the same subject,” I said to myself. 
I often ask myself now: when was I better and juster, 
then, when I believed in the all-power of the human 


mind, or now, when, having lost the ability to develop, I 
280 


HOW I PREPARED FOR THE EXAMINATIONS 28] 


doubt the power and meaning of the human mind? and 
I am unable to give myself a positive answer. 

The consciousness of freedom and that vernal feeling 
of expectancy, of which I have spoken before, agitated 
me so much that I was absolutely unable to control 
myself, and I prepared but badly for my examinations. 
In the morning, while I was working in the class-room 
and was conscious that I had to work hard, because next 
day was the examination in a subject of which I had not 
read two whole questions as yet, suddenly some vernal 
fragrance would reach me through the window and it 
would seem that I had to recall something, and my 
hands would automatically drop the book, my feet begin 
automatically to move and pace to and fro, and I would 
feel as though somebody had touched a spring, and the 
whole machine had been put in motion, and all kinds of 
blissful thoughts would begin to course through my head 
so lightly, naturally, and swiftly, that I could perceive 
only their flashing. And thus an hour or two would 
pass unobserved. 

Or I would be reading some book and concentrating 
my attention upon what I was reading, when I would 
hear feminine steps and the rustle of a dress in the corri- 
dor, — and everything would leap out of my head, and I 
could no longer sit in one place, although I knew full well 
that nobody had crossed the corridor but Gdsha, grand- 
mother’s old maid. “ But, suppose it should suddenly be 
she?” it would occur to me. “Suppose it is beginning 
now, and I should lose my chance?” and I would rush 
out into the corridor, and convince myself that it was 
really Gasha. Yet it would be some time after that before 
I could control my head. The spring was touched, and 
again there was a terrible pandemonium. 

Or, again, I would be sitting in the evening by a tallow 
candle in my room. Suddenly I would tear myself away 
from my book for a moment, to snuff the candle or settle 


282 YOUTH 


myself in the chair, and I would see that it was dark in 
all the doors and corners, and hear that it was quiet 
in the whole house, — and, of course, I could not help 
stopping and listening to that silence, and looking at that 
darkness of the door that opened into a dark room, and 
for a long time remaining in an immovable position, or 
walking through all the empty rooms of the house. Fre- 
quently, too, I used to sit through the evenings unnoticed 
in the parlour, listening to the sound of the “ nightingale” 
which Gésha, sitting all alone in the parlour by a tallow 
dip, was playing on the piano with two fingers. And in 
the moonlight I could not help rising from my bed, and, 
leaning over the window-sill into the garden, I would gaze 
at the illuminated roof of Shapéshnikov’s house, and at 
the stately bell-tower of our parish, and the evening 
shadows of the fence and the shrubbery, which lay across 
the garden path; I could not help staying there so long 
that I later could not wake before ten o'clock. 

So if it had not been for the teachers that came to me, 
and for St. Jérdme, who now and then unwillingly fired 
my ambition, and, mainly, for the fact that I was anxious 
to appear as a fine fellow in the eyes of my friend Nekh- 
lyiidov, that is, to pass excellent examinations, which, 
according to him, was a very important matter, —if it 
had not been for all that,— spring and freedom would 
have made me forget everything I ever knew, and I 
should never have been able to pass my examinations, 


».¢ 
MY HISTORY EXAMINATION 


On April 16th I entered for the first time the 
university hall under the guidance of St. Jér6me. We 
drove there in our sufficiently foppish phaeton. I had 
on a dress coat, for the first time in my life, and all my 
clothes, even my linen and stockings, were new and of 
the best. When the doorkeeper took off my overcoat 
down-stairs, and I stood before him in all the splendour 
of my dress, I felt a little ashamed at being so strikingly 
magnificent. Yet the moment I entered the bright par- 
queted hall, filled with people, and noticed the hundreds 
of young men in Gymnasium uniforms and dress coats, 
some of whom looked at me with indifference, and noticed 
at the farther end the solemn professors, who freely moved 
about between the tables, or sat in large armchairs, I 
at once felt disappointed in my hope of directing uni- 
versal attention to myself, and the expression of my face, 
upon which at home and even in the antechamber had 
been written compassion for making against my will 
such a noble and distinguished appearance, was exchanged 
for an expression of the greatest timidity and even some 
despair. I even fell into the other extreme, and was very 
happy when I discovered on a near-by bench a care- 
lessly and uncleanly dressed, gray-haired, though not yet 
old, man, who was sitting on the last bench, apart from 
the others. I immediately sat down near him, and began 


to watch the candidates, and to draw my conclusions. 
283 


284 YOUTH 


All kinds of people were there, but, according to the 
opinion which I then held, they could be distributed into 
three classes. 

There were some who, like myself, had appeared at the 
examination with their tutors or parents, among their 
number the younger Ivin, with the familiar Frost, and 
Ilinka Grap, with his old father. All these had downy 
chins, wore fine linen, and sat quietly, without opening 
the books and notes which they had brought with them, 
and with perceptible timidity looked at the professors and 
the examination tables. To the second class of candi- 
dates belonged young men in Gymnasium uniforms, 
many of whom already shaved. They were mostly 
acquainted with each other, spoke loud, called the pro- 
fessors by their names and patronymics, prepared their 
questions, passed their note-books to each other, 
climbed across the benches, and brought from the ante- 
chamber pastry and sandwiches, which they devoured 
right there in the hall, by lowering their heads to the 
level of the benches. Lastly, the candidates of the third 
class, of whom, however, there were not many, were those 
who were quite old and wore dress coats, though more 
frequently simple coats, and were apparently without 
linen. They carried themselves very seriously, sat apart 
from the others, and had a sombre aspect. The one who 
had consoled me by being dressed worse than I belonged 
to that class. He leaned on both his arms, passing his 
fingers through his dishevelled gray hair, read a book, and 
only for a moment gazed at me with not very benevolent, 
beaming eyes; he frowned gloomily and stretched out his 
shiny elbow in my direction, so that I should not sit 
down too close tohim. The Gymnasiasts, on the contrary, 
were too affable, and I was a little afraid of them. One 
of them put a book into my hands and said: “ Give it to 
him;” another passed by me and said, “ Please let me 
by ;” a third leaned against me as against a bench, while 


MY HISTORY EXAMINATION 285 


climbing over. All that seemed coarse and disagreeable 
to me; I considered myself a great deal higher than these 
Gymnasiasts, and thought they ought not to have per- 
mitted themselves such familiarity with me. 

At last, names were called. The Gymnasiasts stepped 
boldly forward, generally answered their questions well, 
and returned in a happy frame of mind; our kind were 
much more timid and answered, as I thought, not so well. 
Of the older ones, some answered superbly, others badly. 
When Seménov was called, my neighbour with the gray 
hair and brilliant eyes pushed me roughly and, stepping 
over my legs, went to the table. As could be seen by the 
faces of the professors, he answered excellently and boldly. 
When he returned to his seat, he did not bother about 
finding out what mark he had received, but quietly took 
up his note-books and went out. I had shuddered several 
times at the sound of the voice which called out the 
names, but my turn had not yet come in the alphabetical 
order, though names beginning with I were now called. 
“Tkdénin and Ténev” somebody suddenly cried in the 
professorial corner. A chill ran down my back and hair. 

“« Whom did they call? Who is Barténev ?” they said 
all about me. 

“Tkénin, go, you are called. But who is Barténev, 
Mordénev? I do not know, I must confess,” said a tall, 
red-cheeked Gymnasiast who was standing behind me. 

“You,” said St. Jérdme. 

“My name is Irténev,” I said to the red-cheeked 
Gymunasiast. “Did they call Irténev ?” 

«Why, yes! Why don’t you go? I declare, what a 
dandy!” he added under his breath, but so that I could 
hear his words, as I left the bench. Ahead of me was 
walking Ikénin, a tall young man some twenty-five years 
of age, who belonged to the third class of the ancients. 
He was dressed in a tight olive-coloured dress coat, blue 
satin necktie, to which ran down from behind his long, 


286 YOUTH 


blond hair, carefully combed & la muzhtk. I had noticed 
his face, while he was still in his seat. He was not bad- 
looking, and was talkative; and I was particularly struck 
by the strange red hair of his beard at the neck, and still 
more by his strange habit of continually unbuttoning his 
vest, and scratching his chest under his shirt. 

Three professors were sitting at the table, to which 
Ikénin and I went up; not one of them returned our 
greeting. A young professor shuffled the tickets like a 
deck of cards; another professor, with a decoration on 
his dress coat, looked at a Gymnasiast who was speaking 
rapidly about Charlemagne, adding “finally” to every 
word; and a third one, an old man in spectacles, bent 
down his head, looked at us over his glasses, and pointed 
to the tickets. I felt that his look was directed simul- 
taneously to Ikénin and to me, and that something in us 
displeased him (maybe, Ikénin’s red hair), because he 
looked at us simultaneously another time and made an 
impatient gesture with his head, for us to hurry and take 
our tickets. JI was angry and felt insulted, first, because 
no one had answered our greeting, secondly, because I 
was evidently classed with Ikénin as the same kind of 
candidate, as though one should be prejudiced against 
me for Ikénin’s red hair. I took my ticket without any 
timidity, and was getting ready to answer; but the pro- 
fessor pointed with his eyes to Ikénin. I read my ticket: 
I was familiar with the question, and, waiting patiently 
for my turn, I watched what was going on in front of 
me. Ikdénin was not in the least frightened, and moved 
forward boldly, somehow with his whole side, to take his 
ticket, shook his hair, and courageously read what was 
written down on his ticket. He opened his mouth, as I 
thought, to answer, when the professor with the decora- 
tion, who had just dismissed the Gymnasiast, looked at him. 
Ikénin seemed to remember something, and stopped. A 
universal silence lasted for about two minutes. 


MY HISTORY EXAMINATION 287 


“Well,” said the professor in the spectacles. 

Ikénin opened his mouth and again stopped. 

“ You are not the only person here; so, will you answer, 
or not?” said the young professor, but Ikénin did not 
even look at him. He gazed fixedly at the ticket, and 
did not pronounce a word. The professor in the spectacles 
looked at him through his glasses and over his glasses, 
and without his glasses, for he had in the meantime taken 
them down, carefully cleaned them, and put them on 
again. Ik6énin did not pronounce a word. Suddenly a 
smile flashed on his face, he shook his hair, again moving 
his whole side at once, turned to the table, put down the 
ticket, glanced at all the professors in succession, then at 
me, turned about, and with a bold step, waving his arms, 
returned to the bench. The professors looked at each 
other. 

“He is a good one 
pay student!” 

I moved up to the table, but the professors continued 
to speak in a whisper to each other, as if they did not 
even suspect my presence. I was then firmly convinced 
that all three professors were particularly interested to 
know whether I should pass my examination, and whether 
I should pass well, and that they only pretended, to show 
off their dignity, that it was a matter of indifference to 
them, and they did not notice me. 

When the professor in the spectacles turned to me 
indifferently and invited me to answer the question, I 
looked at his eyes and felt a little ashamed for him for 
his duplicity before me, and at first faltered in my answer ; 
but it soon went easier and easier, and as the question was 
in Russian history, which I knew excellently, I made a 
brilliant showing, and, in my desire to let the professors 
know that I was not Ik6nin, and that I should not be 
mixed up with him, went so far as to offer to take another 
ticket. But the professor shook his head, and said: “ That 


{” 


said the young professor. “A 


288 YOUTH 


will do, sir!” and put down a mark in his book. When 
I returned to the benches, I immediately learned from 
the Gymnasiasts, who had found it out, God knows how, 
that I had received a five mark. 


XI. 
MY MATHEMATICS EXAMINATION 


AT the following examinations I had a number of new 
acquaintances, in addition to Grap, whom I considered 
unworthy of my friendship, and [vin, who was rather 
shy of me. Some of them greeted me. Ik6dnin was glad 
to see me, and informed me that he would be reéxamined 
in history, and that the professor of history had a grudge 
against him from last year’s examination, at which he 
had made him fail. Seménov, who was entering the 
same faculty as I, the mathematical, kept away from all 
the others until the end of his examinations, sat silently 
by himself, leaning on his arms, and passing his fingers 
through his gray hair, and answered his examinations 
excellently. He was second. A Gymnasiast of the First 
Gymnasium was first. He was a tall, lean fellow of dark 
complexion, very pale, his cheek tied up with a black necktie, 
and his brow covered with pimples. His hands were lean 
and red, with extremely long fingers, and nails so bitten | 
that the ends of his fingers seemed to be tied with threads. 
All that I thought beautiful and as it should be with a 
“ First Gymnasiast.” He spoke to every one like anybody 
else, and I became acquainted with him, but I judged 
from his carriage, the movement of his lips and black 
eyes, that there was something extraordinary, something 
“magnetic,” in them. 

I came earlier than usual to my mathematical examina- 


tion. I knew my subject well, but there were two 
289 


290 YOUTH 


questions in algebra which I had concealed from my 
teacher, and which were entirely unknown to me. Those 
were, as far as I remember now, the theory of associa- 
tions, and Newton’s binomial. I sat down on the back 
bench, and looked over the two unfamiliar questions ; but 
not being accustomed to work in a noisy room, and not 
having sufficient time, a fact of which I was conscious, I 
was not able to concentrate my mind on my reading. 

“ Here he is, come here, Nekhlytidov!” I heard behind 
me Volddya’s familiar voice. 

I turned round and saw my brother and Dubkdév, who 
were walking up to me between the benches with their 
coats unbuttoned, and swinging their arms. One could 
immediately see that they were students of the second 
year, who were at home in the university. The mere 
aspect of the unbuttoned coats expressed contempt for us 
fellows, the candidates, and they inspired us, in turn, with 
envy and respect. I was very much flattered by the 
thought that all persons about me could see that I was 
acquainted with two students of the second year, and I 
swiftly rose to meet them. 

Volédya could not keep from expressing his feeling of 
superiority. 

“Oh, you miserable fellow!” he said. “Have you not 
been examined yet ?” 

“No: 

« What are you reading? Are you not prepared ?” 

“Not quite in two questions. I do not understand 
this.” 

“What? This?” said Voldédya, and began to explain 
Newton’s binomial to me, but so rapidly and indistinctly 
that, reading suspicion of his knowledge in my eyes, he 
looked at Dmitri, and, reading the same in his eyes, no 
doubt, he blushed, but continued to talk that which I did 
not understand. 

“No, wait, Volédya! Let me go it over with him, if 


MY MATHEMATICS EXAMINATION 291 


there is time,” said Dmitri, looking at the professors’ 
corner, and seating himself by my side. 

I noticed at once that my friend was in that contented, 
meek frame of mind which always came over him when 
he was satisfied with himself, and which I especially 
admired in him. As he knew mathematics well, and 
spoke distinctly, he explained the question so clearly, that 
I remember it even now. No sooner had he finished than 
St. Jérdme called out in a loud whisper, “.4 vous, Nicolas !” 
and I followed Ikénin out of the bench, without having 
had time to touch the other unfamiliar question. I 
walked up to the table, where two professors were seated, 
and a Gymnasiast was standing at the blackboard. The 
Gymnasiast was writing out a formula with much energy, 
noisily breaking the chalk against the board, and con- 
tinued to write, although the professor had told him long 
ago, “ That will do,’ and had ordered us to draw tickets. 
“What if I should get the theory of associations!” I 
thought, drawing with trembling fingers a ticket from a 
soft mass of bits of paper. Ikdénin, with the same bold 
gesture as at the previous examination, swaying with his 
whole side took the topmost ticket, without much choos- 
ing, looked at it, and frowned angrily. 

“T get nothing but these little devils!” he grumbled. 

I looked at mine. O terror! it was the theory of 
associations ! 

“What have you?” asked Ikénin. 

I showed him. 

“T know that,” he said. 

“ Let us exchange.” 

“No, it does not make any difference. I do not feel 
like it,” Ikdnin had barely whispered when the professor 
called us to the board. 

“ Well, all is lost!” I thought. “Instead of a brilliant 
examination, which I had intended to pass, I shall cover 
myself with shame for ever, worse than Ikénin.” But 


292 YOUTH 


suddenly Ikdénin turned to me, under the eyes of the pro- 
fessor, pulled the ticket out of my hands, and gave me 
his. I looked at the ticket. It was Newton’s binomial. 

The professor was not a very old man, and had a pleas- 
ant, intelligent expression, which was produced mainly by 
the large protruding lower part of his forehead. 

“What is that? You are exchanging tickets, gentle- 
men?” he said. 

“No, he just let me look at his, Mr. Professor,” Ikénin 
had the presence of mind to say, and again “ Mr. Profes- 
sor” was the last word which he pronounced in that place ; 
and again, as he passed by me, he glanced at the professors 
and at me, smiled and shrugged his shoulders, with an 
expression which said: 

“Tt’s all right, my friend!” (I later learned that it was 
the third year Ikdénin had been coming to the entrance 
examinations.) 

I answered my question excellently, for I had just had 
it explained to me,—the professor even said that I 
had passed it better than could be expected, and gave me 
a five mark. 


i, 
THE LATIN EXAMINATION 


EVERYTHING went well up to the time of the Latin 
examination. The bundled-up Gymnasiast was first, Se- 
ménov second, I third. I even began to grow proud and 
seriously to think that, in spite of my youth, I was 
somebody. 

Even at the first examination all told with trembling 
of the Latin professor, who was a beast and took delight 
in the ruin of young men, particularly pay students, and 
who, it was asserted, never spoke but in Latin or Greek. 
St. Jéréme, who had been my teacher of Latin, encouraged 
me, and I myself thought I was prepared not worse than 
the others, since I had translated Cicero and a few odes of 
Horace without a dictionary, and knew Zumpt by heart. 
We heard all the morning of nothing but the ruin of 
those who were examined before me; to one the professor 
gave zero, to another one, a third canditate he called 
names and wanted to put out, and so on. Only Seménov 
and the “ First” Gymnasiast walked out calmly as before, 
and returned, having received five each. I had a presen- 
timent of my misfortune, when Ikénin and I were called 
to the small table at which the terrible professor was 
seated all by himself. The terrible professor was a small, 
lean, sallow man, with long, greasy hair, and a very pen- 
sive countenance. He handed to Ikénin a volume of 


Cicero’s speeches, and told him to translate. To my great 
293 


294 YOUTH 


astonishment, Ikdénin not only read, but even translated a 
few lines with the aid of the professor, who helped him 
out. As I felt my superiority before so weak a rival, I 
could not help smiling, even somewhat contemptuously, 
when it came to the analysis, and Ikénin, as formerly, 
was merged in inextricable silence. I had intended to 
win the professor’s favour with that intelligent, slightly 
derisive smile, but it turned out quite differently. 

“You, no doubt, know it better, since you smile,” said 
the professor to me in bad Russian. “We shall see. 
Now, you tell it.” 

Later I learned that the professor of Latin favoured 
Ikénin, and that Ikénin was even living at his house. I 
immediately answered the question on syntax which had 
been put to Ikénin, but the professor assumed a sad 
expression and turned away from me. 

“Very well, sir, your turn will come, and we shall see 
what you know,” he said, without looking at me, and 
began to explain to Ikdnin the question he had asked 
him. 

“That will do,” he added, and I saw him mark Ikénin 
four in the book of marks. “ Well,” I thought, “he is 
not at all so severe as they said.” After Ikdénin had 
gone, he for a full five minutes, which appeared to me 
like five hours, arranged the books and tickets, cleared 
his nose, straightened out the chairs, threw himself into 
one, stared at the hall, around him, and everywhere, only 
not at me. All that feigning did not seem sufficient to 
him, so he opened a book and pretended he was reading 
it, as if I did not exist for him at all. I moved up and 
coughed. 

“Oh, yes! You! Well, translate something,” he said, 
handing me a book; “or no, you had better take this.” 
He turned the pages of Horace, and opened it at a passage 
which, I was sure, nobody could ever translate. 

“JT did not prepare this,” I said. 


THE LATIN EXAMINATION 295 


“Oh, you want to answer only what you have learned 
by rote! Very well! No, you translate this!” 

I managed to make some sense out of it, but the 
professor shook his head at every questioning glance of 
mine, and, sighing, answered only “No.” At last, he 
closed the book; he did it so swiftly and nervously that 
he caught his finger between the leaves; he angrily pulled 
it out, gave me a ticket in grammar, and, leaning back in 
his chair, was most ominously silent. I started to answer, 
but the expression of his face fettered my tongue, and 
everything I said sounded wrong to me. 

“ Not that, not at all that,” he suddenly burst out in his 
horrible pronunciation, rapidly changing his position, 
leaning on the table and playing with his gold ring, which 
fitted badly on the lean finger of his left hand. “ Gentle- 
men, it will not do to be prepared in such a manner for 
a higher institution of learning: you are thinking only 
of wearing a uniform with a blue collar, and you snap 
up the tops of things, and imagine that you can be 
students; no, gentlemen, you must begin your subjects 
in a thorough manner,” and so forth in the same strain. 

All during his speech, which was pronounced in very 
faulty language, I looked with dull attention at his droop- 
ingeyes. At first I was tormented by the disappointment 
that I should not be third, then by the fear that I should 
not pass my examination at all; finally there was added 
to this the feeling of injustice, offended self-esteem, and 
undeserved humiliation ; in addition, a contempt for the 
professor for not meeting my conception of a man comme 
al faut, which I discovered when I saw his short, strong, 
and round nails, still more fanned these feelings and made 
them venomous. Looking at me, and noticing my quiver- 
ing lips and eyes filled with tears, he evidently explained 
my agitation as a request that he should give me a better 
mark, and, as though taking pity on me, he said (in the 
presence of another professor, who had just stepped up): 


296 YOUTH 


“Very well, I shall give you a pass mark” (which 
meant two), “though you do not deserve it, but I do so 
out of consideration for your youth, and in the hope that 
you will not be so frivolous in the university.” 

The last sentence, which was said in the presence of a 
strange professor, who looked at me as if to say, “ Yes, 
you see, young man?” completely undid me. There was 
a minute when my eyes were clouded: the terrible pro- 
fessor, with his table, appeared to me to be sitting a long 
distance off, and the wild idea passed through my mind 
with terrible, one-sided clearness: “Suppose — what 
would happen?” But, for some reason, I did not do it; 
on the contrary, I bowed very respectfully, though uncon- 
sciously, to both the professors, and, smiling softly, the 
same smile, I thought, Ikénin had smiled, went away from 
the table. 

That injustice affected me so powerfully that, if I had 
been free to do as I chose, I should not have gone to the 
other examinations. I lost every ambition (I no longer 
could hope to be third), and I passed all the following 
examinations without the least preparation or anxiety. I 
received as an average four with a fraction, but that no 
longer interested me. I decided, and proved it to my full 
satisfaction, that it was very stupid, and even mauvais 
genre to try to be first, but that one ought to endeavour 
not to have one’s standing either too good or too bad, just 
like Volédya. I made up my mind to stick to this plan 
in the university, though in this I departed for the first 
time from the opinion of my friend. 

I now thought only of my uniform, the cocked hat, my 
own vehicle, my own room, and, above all, my personal 
freedom. 


XIII. 
I AM A GROWN-UP MAN 


HoweEVER, these thoughts had their charm, too. 

When I returned on the 8th of May from my last 
examination, in religion, I found at home an apprentice 
from Rozdnov, who had before brought a basted uniform 
and a coat of smooth black cloth with a sheen, and had 
marked the lapels with chalk; he now brought the com- 
pleted suit, with shining gold buttons, wrapped in papers. 

I put on the suit and found it beautiful, in spite of St. 
Jérome’s assurance that the back of the coat wrinkled. I 
went down-stairs with a self-satisfied smile, which invol- 
untarily spread over my whole countenance, and went to 
Volédya’s room, feeling, though pretending not to notice, 
the glances of the servants, which were eagerly directed 
toward me from the antechamber and the corridor. 
Gavrilo, the majordomo, caught up with me in the par- 
lour, congratulated me on my entering the university, 
presented to me, by papa’s order, four twenty-five rouble 
bills, and said that, also by papa’s order, from that day on 
coachman Kuzma, a vehicle, and the bay, Beauty, were at 
my entire disposal. I was so rejoiced at this almost 
unexpected happiness that I was unable to feign indiffer- 
ence before Gavrilo, and, after a moment of confusion and 
hesitation, I said the first thing that occurred to me, — I 
think it was, “ Beauty is an excellent trotter.” 

I glanced at the heads that stuck through the doors of 


the antechamber and the corridor, and, not being able to 
297 ; 


298 YOUTH 


hold myself in any longer, raced through the parlour in 
my new overcoat with the shining gold buttons. As I 
entered Voldédya’s room, I heard behind me the voices of 
Dubkév and Nekhlytidov, who had come to congratulate 
me and to propose that we drive out for dinner and 
drink champagne in honour of my entering the university. 
Dmitri said to me that, though he did not like to drink 
champagne, he would drive out with us to-day, in order 
to drink “brotherhood” with me. Dubkév said that I 
somehow resembled a colonel; Volédya did not congrat- 
ulate me, and very drily said that two days later we 
could go into the country. Although he was glad of my 
success, it looked as if he were a little annoyed at my 
being now just such a grown person as he. St. Jérdme, 
who also came to see us,said in high-flown terms that his 
duty was now ended, but that he had done all he could, 
and that the next day he should move to the count’s 
house. In answer to all they told me, I felt that an 
involuntary, sweet, happy, stupidly self-satisfied smile was 
blooming forth on my face, and I noticed that that smile 
communicated itself to all who spoke with me. 

And thus I had no longer a tutor, I possessed my own 
vehicle, my name was printed in the list of the students, 
I wore a sword with a sword-knot,— sentinels might 
present arms to me—I was a young man, and, I am 
sure, I was happy. 

We decided to dine at Yar’s at five o’clock; but as 
Volé6dya had driven out to Dubkév’s house, and Dmitri, 
as usual, had disappeared, saying that he had some busi- 
ness before dinner, I was able to pass two hours as I 
chose. I walked about the rooms for some time, and 
looked in all the mirrors, now with my coat buttoned, 
now unbuttoned, now buttoned with the upper button 
only, and always it looked beautifulto me. Then, though 
I had scruples about evincing too much joy, I could not 
restrain myself, and went to the stable and carriage shed 


I AM A GROWN-UP MAN 299 


to look at Beauty, Kuzma, and the vehicle; then I 
returned and began to walk through the rooms, looking 
‘n the mirrors and counting the money in my pocket, and 
il the time smiling blissfully. But not an hour passed 
‘ore I felt lonely and sorry that nobody saw me in such 
‘agnificent state, and I needed motion and activity. 

" ordered the vehicle out, and decided that I had 
‘go to Blacksmith Bridge, to make some purchases. 
‘called that Voldédya, upon entering the university, 

ught lithographs of horses by Victor Adam, and 

and a pipe, and it seemed to me necessary to do 


1e the eyes of all were turned on me from every 

and the sun brilliantly shone upon 2ay buttons, upon 

the cockade of my hat, and upon my sword, I arrived at 
Blacksmith Bridge, and stopped at the picture shop of 
Dazziaro. I looked all around me, and walked in. I did 
not want to buy Adam’s horses, lest I should be accused 
of aping Volddya, but, being abashed, and wishing to 
choose as quickly as possible, in order to save the oblig- 
ing clerk trouble, I took a water-colour painting of a 
female head which was standing in the window, and paid 
twenty roubles for it. Yet, though I paid twenty 
roubles, I felt ashamed at having troubled two beautifully 
dressed clerks with such a trifle, and, at the same time, I 
thought they did not pay me the proper respect. As 
I was desirous of letting them know who I was, I turned 
my attention to a silver thing that lay under a glass, and 
upon learning that it was a pencil-case, costing eighteen 
roubles, I asked to have it wrapped up, and paid for it. 
Having found out that good pipe-stems and tobacco could 
be purchased in the adjoining tobacco-shop, I politely 
bowed to the two clerks and walked out into the street, 
with the picture under my arm. In the neighbouring 
shop, on the sign of which was painted a negro smoking 
a cigar, I bought, also from a desire not to imitate any- 


300 YOUTH 


body, not Zhukév’s, but Turkish tobacco, a Turkish pipe, 
and two linden and briar pipe-stems. As I left the shop 
and walked to the vehicle, I saw Seménov, who wars 
dressed in citizen’s clothes and, with drooping head, w: 
walking rapidly along the sidewalk. I felt anno 
because he did not recognize me. I called out quite ] 
“Drive up!” and, seating myself in the vehicle, cr 

up with him. 

“Good day,” I said. 

«“ My regards,” he answered, and continued to v 

“T see you are not in your uniform!” I said te 

Seménov stopped, blinked, and showed his . 
though it pained him to look into the sun, but, in rec 
show his indiffer nce to my vehicle and uniform, gazeu .. 
me in silence, and walked on. 

From Blacksmith Bridge I drove to a confectioner’s on 
the Tver Boulevard, and though I tried to feign that it 
was the newspapers that interested me there, I could not 
keep myself from eating one pastry after another. Al- 
though I felt ashamed before the gentleman who kept 
on looking at me from behind his paper, I devoured in 
rapid succession some eight cakes of every kind which 
was to be found in the shop. 

When I arrived at home I felt some heartburn; but I 
paid no attention to it, and began to examine my pur- 
chases. I was so disgusted with my picture that I not 
only did not put it in a frame, but concealed it behind 
the bureau, where Voldédya could not see it. Nor did I 
like a pencil-case at home; so I put it in the table, con- 
soling myself, however, with the thought that it was of 
silver, a fine piece of work, and very useful for a student. 
But I decided at once to put to use the smoking parapher- 
nalia, and to test them. 

I opened the quarter-pound package, carefully filled 
the Turkish pipe with the brown, finely cut Turkish 
tobacco, placed upon it a burning piece of tinder, and, 


I AM A GROWN-UP MAN 301 


taking the stem between the middle and ring fingers, — a 
position of the hand which I particularly admired, — 
began to puff. 

The odour of the tobacco was very pleasant, but there 
was a bitter taste in my mouth, and the smoke choked 
me. I took courage, for quite awhile puffed ahead, and 
tried to make smoke rings, and to breathe in the smoke. 
The room was soon filled with bluish clouds, the pipe 
began to snarl, the hot tobacco bubbled, and I felt a 
bitterness in my mouth and a slight whirling in my 
head. I wanted to stop, and just to take a look at 
myself in the mirror, but, to my astonishment, my legs 
tottered ; the room went round in a circle, and when I 
looked into the mirror, to which I had dragged myself 
with difficulty, I noticed that my face was as pale as a 
sheet. No sooner did I seat myself on the sofa, than I 
felt such nausea and weakness that I concluded the pipe 
was poisonous to me, and that I was sure to die. I was 
frightened in earnest, and was about to call for help and 
send for the doctor. 

This fear did not last. I soon saw what the matter 
was, and for a long time lay, weak and with a terrible 
headache, upon the sofa, looking with dull attention at 
the trade-mark of Bostanzhdéglo which was represented 
on the quarter-pound package, at the pipe which was 
lying upon the floor, at the tobacco lumps, and at what 
was left of the pastry, and I thought in disappointment 
and sadness: “ Evidently I am not yet a grown-up man, 
if I am not able to smoke like others, and it is not fated 
that I should hold, like others, my pipe between my 
middle and ring fingers, and puff, and pass the smoke 
through my blond moustache.” 

Dmitri, who came for me after four o’clock, found me 
in that unfortunate condition. But after drinking a glass 
of water, I was almost entirely well, and ready to go with 
him. 


302 YOUTH 


“ What good do you find in smoking ?” he said, looking 
at the traces of smoking. “This is nothing but foolish- 
ness and useless waste of money. I have taken a vow 
never to smoke. However, come! We have to call for 


Dubkév yet.” 


2.2 be 
WHAT DUBKOV’S AND VOLODYA’S OCCUPATIONS WERE 


THE moment Dmitri entered my room, I saw by his 
face, by his gait, and by his peculiar gesture, which he 
made every time he was out of sorts, and which consisted 
in winking and jerking his head awry, as if to rearrange 
his necktie, that he was in his cold and stubborn frame 
of mind, which came over him when he was dissatisfied 
with himself, and which always had a chilling effect upon 
my attachment for him. Of late I had begun to observe 
and judge the character of my friend, but our friendship 
did not suffer from it in the least: it was still so young 
and strong that from whatever side I looked at Dmitri I 
could not help but consider him perfection. There were 
two different men in him, and they both seemed beautiful 
to me. One, whom I loved passionately, was good, kind, 
meek, merry, and conscious of these amiable qualities. 
When he was in that mood, his whole exterior, the sound 
of his voice, and all his movements seemed to say, “I 
am meek and virtuous, and I take pleasure in being meek 
and virtuous, and you may see it all.” The other, whom 
I had just begun to discover, and before whose majesty 
I bowed, was a cold man, severe to himself and to others, 
proud, fanatically religious, and pedantically virtuous. At 
that particular moment he was that second man. 

With a frankness, which constituted a necessary condi- 
tion of our relation, I told him, when we seated ourselves 


in the vehicle, that I was pained and sad to see him in 
303 


304 YOUTH 


such a heavy and disagreeable frame of mind on a day 
which was so happy for me. 

“ No doubt something has annoyed you. Why do you 
not tell me?” I asked him. 

“ Nikdlenka!” he answered in a leisurely manner, nerv- 
ously jerking his head and winking, “if I promised you 
that I should not conceal anything from you, you have 
no cause for suspecting my secretiveness. A person can- 
not always be in the same mood, and if anything has 
annoyed me, I am not able to account for it!” 

“What a wonderfully frank and honest character his 
is,” I thought, and did not continue the conversation. 

We reached Dubké6v’s in silence. Dubkév’s apartments 
were unusually fine, or at least seemed soto me. There 
were everywhere rugs, pictures, curtains, gay wall-paper, 
wicker chairs, large armchairs; on the wall hung rifles, 
pistols, tobacco pouches, and card-paper animal heads. 
At the sight of that cabinet, I saw at once whom Volddya 
was imitating in fixing up his room. We found Dubkdév 
and Volédya at cards. A stranger (a man evidently not of 
much importance, to judge by his modest position) sat 
at the table and attentively watched the game. Dubkév 
had on a silk dressing-gown and soft shoes. Volddya, 
without his coat, was sitting opposite him, on the sofa, 
and, to judge by his flushed face and the dissatisfied and 
cursory glance which he cast upon us, while tearing him- 
self away from his cards for a second, was absorbed in 
the game. When he saw me, he blushed even more. 

“Well, it is your deal,” he said to Dubkdév. I under- 
stood that he was ill at ease, because I had found out 
that he played at cards. But there was no consternation 
in his look, — it simply said: “ Yes, I play, and you are 
surprised because you are young. This is not only not 
bad, but quite the thing at our years.” 

I felt it and understood it at once. 

Dubkév, however, did not deal the cards, but rose, 


DUBKOV’S AND VOLODYA’S OCCUPATIONS 305 


pressed our hands, gave us chairs, and offered us pipes, 
which we refused. 

“So here he is, our diplomatist, the cause of our cele- 
bration,” said Dubkév. “Upon my word, he looks very 
much like a colonel.” 

“Hm!” I muttered, again feeling a stupidly self-satis- 
fied smile spreading on my face. 

I respected Dubkév as only a sixteen-year-old boy can 
respect a twenty-seven-year-old adjutant, whom all the 
big people called an exceedingly fine young man, who 
danced well and spoke French, and who, at heart despising 
my youth, endeavoured to conceal this feeling. 

In spite of all my respect for him, it was, God knows 
why, during the whole time of our acquaintance, a hard 
and awkward matter for me to look into his eyes. I 
noticed later that there were three kinds of people, into 
whose eyes I found it hard to look straight: those who 
were considerably worse than I; those who were con- 
siderably better than I; and those to whom I did not 
dare to tell a thing which both of us knew. It may be, 
Dubkév was better than I, or it may be, he was worse, 
but this much was certain, he lied a great deal, without 
acknowledging the fact, and I had noticed this weakness 
in him, but, naturally, did not have the courage to tell 
him so. 

“Let us play another score,” said Volddya, jerking his 
shoulder like papa, and shuffling the cards. 

“ Why do you insist ?” said Dubkév. “ We could finish 
it later. However, let us have it!” 

While they played I watched their hands. Volddya 
had a beautiful large hand, and the division of the thumb 
and the curvature of the other fingers, as he held the 
cards, so resembled papa’s, that I thought for a moment 
Voléddya was purposely holding his hands that way, in 
order to resemble a man; but when I observed his face, 
it was evident that he was thinking of nothing but the 


306 YOUTH 


game. Dubkév’s hands, on the contrary, were small, 
fleshy, bent inwardly, very agile, and with soft fingers, — 
just the kind of hands upon which rings are worn, and 
which belong to people who like to work with them, and 
love to have beautiful things. 

Volédya must have lost, for the gentleman, who was 
looking into his cards, remarked that Vladimir Petrévich 
had terribly bad luck, and Dubkév reached for his port- 
folio, wrote something down in it, and, showing it to 
Volddya, said: “ Right ?” 

« Yes,” said Voldédya, looking with feigned indifference 
at the note-book, “ now let us go!” 

Volédya took Dubk6év with him, and Dmitri took me 
in his phaeton. 

« What were they playing?” I asked Dmitri. 

“Piquet. A stupid game, but, as for that, all games 
are stupid.” 

“ Do they play for large stakes?” 

“No, not large, but it is bad all the same.” 

« And do you not play ?” 

“No, I have vowed not to play; and Dubkév is bound 
to win from anybody.” 

“But that is not nice of him,’ I said. “ Volédya, no 
doubt, plays worse than he.” 

“Of course, it is not nice; but there is nothing bad 
about it. Dubkév likes to play and knows how to play, 
but he is an excellent man for all that.” 

“TJ did not mean to say —” I said. 

“There is no reason for having a bad opinion of him, 
for he is really a fine man. I love him very much, and 
shall always love him, in spite of his weakness.” 

It appeared to me, for some reason, that the fact that 
Dmitri so warmly defended Dubkdév proved that he no 
longer loved and respected him, but did not acknowledge 
this from stubbornness, in order that no one might accuse 
him of inconstancy. He was one of those men who love 


DUBKOV’S AND VOLODYA’S OCCUPATIONS 307 


their friends all their lives, not so much because their 
friends please them continually, as because they consider 
it dishonourable to give up a man, after they have taken 
a liking for him, even if it be by mistake. 


2 
I AM CONGRATULATED 


DuBk6év and Voldédya knew all the people at Yar’s 
by their names, and all, from the doorkeeper to the pro- 
prietor, treated them with great respect. We were shown 
at once to a separate room, and we had a wonderful din- 
ner, which Dubkév selected from a French menu. A 
bottle of iced champagne, upon which I tried to look with 
entire indifference, was already prepared. The dinner 
passed very agreeably and merrily, although Dubkév, as 
was his habit, told a lot of strange incidents, which he 
claimed were true,— among them, how his grandmother 
once killed, with a blunderbuss, three brigands who had 
attacked her (which made me blush and, lowering my eyes, 
turn away from him), and although Volddya evidently 
trembled every time I began to say something (which 
was quite unnecessary, for, so far as I remember, I did 
not say anything out of the way). When the champagne 
was brought, all congratulated me, and, crossing hands, I 
drank “brotherhood” with Dubkdédv and Dmitri, and we 
kissed each other. As I did not know to whom the 
bottle of champagne belonged (I later learned that it was 
the whole company’s), and as I wanted to treat my 
friends with my own money, which I kept on fingering in 
my pocket, I softly fetched out a ten-rouble bill and, 
calling up a waiter, gave it to him, and ordered him in a 
whisper, but so that they all could hear, for they were 


looking at me in silence, to bring us another half-bottle 
308 


I AM CONGRATULATED 309 


of champagne. Voldédya blushed, jerked his shoulder, 
and looked frightened at me and at everybody, so that I 
felt I had made a mistake, but the half-bottle was 
brought, and we drank it with much enjoyment. 

We continued to have a jolly time. Dubkév lied 
without cessation; Volddya, too, told funny stories, — he 
told them better than I had ever expected him to; and 
we all laughed a great deal. The character of their fun, 
that is, Volédya’s and Dubké6v’s, consisted in the imitation 
and exaggeration of certain anecdotes: “Have you been 
abroad ?” asked one, and the other would answer: “No, I 
have not, but my brother plays the fiddle.” To every 
question they answered each other in that way, and even 
without being questioned, they tried to connect the most 
incompatible things, and spoke that nonsense with most 
serious faces, — and the result was very funny. I began 
to see through their jokes, and wanted myself to say 
something funny, but all looked embarrassed and tried not 
to gaze at me while I was speaking, and the joke fell flat. 
Dubkév said: “ You are off, brother diplomatist;” but I 
was so happy from the champagne I had drunk, and from 
being in the company of big people, that this remark 
barely touched me. Only Dmitri, who had been drinking 
as much as any of us, remained in his severe, solemn 
mood, which to a certain extent subdued the general 
merriment. 

“ Now, listen, gentlemen!” said Dubkdv. «After din- 
ner we must take the diplomat into our hands. How 
about driving to ‘aunty’? We will fix him there!” 

“You know Nekhlytidov will not go with us,” said 
Volddya. 

“Tntolerable saint! You intolerable saint!” said Dub- 
k6y, turning to him. “Come along; you will see ‘aunty’ 
is a nice lady.” 

“Not only will I not go, but I will not let him either,” 
answered Duitri, blushing. 


310 YOUTH 


“Whom? The diplomat? You want to, diplomat ? 
Not? Really, he all brightened up when we mentioned 
‘aunty.’ ” 

“J will not exactly forbid his going,’ continued Dmitri, 
rising from his seat, and beginning to pace the room, 
without looking at me, “but I advise him not to, and 
I do not want him to go. He is not a child now, and if 
he wishes to go there, he can do so without you. And 
you, Dubkév, must be ashamed of your bad act, so you 
want others to do likewise.” 

“What wrong is there,” said Dubkdv, winking at 
Volédya, “in inviting you all to ‘aunty’s’ for a cup of 
tea? Well, if you do not like to go with us, Volédya and 
I will go alone. Voldédya, do you want to?” 

“Hm, hm,” Volédya said in affirmation, “let us drive 
down there, and then we will return to my room to con- 
tinue the piquet.” 

“Well, will you go with them?” said Dmitri, waiking 
up to me. 

“No,” I answered, moving up on the sofa, so as to give 
him a seat near me, which he took. “I do not want to, 
anyway, and if you advise me not to, I certainly will 
not go.” 

“No,” I added later, “I told an untruth when I said 
I did not want to go with them; but I am glad I am not 
going.” 

«That is right,” he said, “live your own life, and do 
not dance to somebody else’s fiddle. That is best.” 

This short discussion did not in the least curtail our 
pleasure, but even increased it. Dmitri suddenly fell into 
my favourite meek mood. The consciousness of a good 
act, as I often observed later, always produced that effect 
upon him. He was satisfied with himself for having 
saved me. He grew very jolly, asked for another bottle 
of champagne (which was against his rules), called in a 
strange gentleman, whom he began to fill with wine, 


I AM CONGRATULATED oo Ua | 


sang “Gaudeamus igitur,” asked all to sing the refrain, 
and proposed to us that we go out driving to Sokdlniki, 
to which suggestion Dubkév replied that this was too 
sentimental. 

«Let us have a good time,” said Dmitri, smiling. “In 
honour of his entering the university I will, upon my 
word, drink myself drunk for the first time in my life.” 
This merriment was rather odd in Dmitri. He resembled 
a tutor or a good father, who is satisfied with his chil- 
dren, and wants to give them pleasure, and at the same 
time prove to them that one can enjoy himself decently 
and honestly ; still, this sudden merriment acted con- 
tagiously upon me and upon the others, the more so 
since each of us had already consumed a half-bottle of 
champagne. 

In this kappy frame of mine I went into the large 
room, to light the cigarette which Dubkdév had offered 
me. 

When I rose from my seat, I noticed that my head 
was a little dizzy, and that my legs walked and my hands 
remained in a natural position only as long as I thought 
of them with concentration. Otherwise, my legs had 
a sideways leaning, and my arms cut capers. I directed 
all my attention to these limbs, ordered my arms to be 
lifted to button my coat, to smooth my hair (doing which 
my elbows flew up dreadfully), and commanded my legs 
to walk to the door, which they executed, but they 
stopped either too hard, or too gently, especially my left 
leg, which rose on tiptoe. A voice called out to me: 
“Where are you going? They will bring a candle!” I 
guessed that the voice belonged to Volédya, and I experi- 
enced a certain pleasure at the thought that I had 
guessed it, but I only smiled in reply, and went on. 


xv 
THE QUARREL 


In the large room a short, thickset gentleman in 
citizen’s clothes, with a red moustache, was sitting at 
a small table and eating. By his side sat a tall, dark- 
haired man without a moustache. They were speaking 
in French. Their gaze disconcerted me, but I de- 
cided, nevertheless, to light my cigarette at the candle 
which was standing in front of them. Looking about me, 
so as not to meet their glances, I walked up to the table, 
and began to light my cigarette. When the cigarette 
burned, I held out no longer, but cast a look on the gen- 
tleman who was dining. His gray eyes were directed 
fixedly and threateningly at me. I was about to turn 
away, when the red moustache came in motion, and he 
uttered in French: “I object to smoking, sir, when I am 
at dinner.” 

I muttered something unintelligible. 

“Yes; I object,” continued severely the gentleman 
with the moustache, casting a cursory glance upon the 
gentleman without the moustache, as if inviting him to 
watch his belabouring me. “ And I do not like, sir, people 
who are so impolite as to smoke right before my face, — I 
do not like them.” 

I immediately made out that the gentleman was bad- 
gering me, but it appeared to me at first that I was very 
much to blame. 


“T did not think it would incommode you,” I said. 
312 


THE QUARREL a1 


“Ob, you did not think you were a boor, but I did!” 
cried the gentleman. 

“What right have you to yell?” I said, feeling that he 
was insulting me, and growing angry myself. 

“This right, that I will not permit any one to fail in 
his respect to me; and I will always teach such fine 
fellows as you a lesson. What is your name, sir, and 
where do you live?” 

I was furious, my lips quivered, and my breath choked 
me. I felt myself guilty, no doubt, for having drunk too 
much champagne, and I did not rudely insult the gentle- 
man, but, on the contrary, my lips in the most humble 
fashion gave him my name and address. 

“My name is Kolpikdév, dear sir, and you had better 
be more civil next time. You will hear from me” (vous 
aurez de mes nouvelles), he concluded, speaking all the 
time in French. 

I answered only, “ Very glad,” trying to give my voice 
as much firmness as possible, turned about, and went to 
our room with my cigarette, which had in the meantime 
gone out. 

I did not say a word of what had happened, either to 
my brother, or to my friend, particularly since they were 
warmly discussing something, but seated myself, all alone, 
in a corner, and began to ruminate over the strange inci- 
dent. “You are a boor, sir” (un mal élevé, monsieur) 
resounded in my ears, ever more provoking me. My 
intoxication was all passed. When I reflected how I 
had acted in that affair, 1 was suddenly struck by the 
terrible idea that I had acted as a coward. What right 
did he have to attack me? Why did he not say simply 
that it incommoded him? It is he who is guilty. Why, 
when he told me that I was a boor, did I not tell him: 
“ A boor, sir, is he who permits himself any rudeness,” or 
why did I not yell at him: “Shut up!” That would 
have been excellent. Why did I not call him out to 


314 YOUTH 


a duel? No, I did not do any of these things, but 
swallowed the insult like any mean coward. “ You are a 
boor, sir!’’ dinned provokingly in my ears. “No, it can- 
not be left so,” I thought, with the firm determination of 
going again to that gentleman and telling him something 
terrible, and even knocking him down with the candle- 
stick, if the opportunity offered itself. I considered this 
latter intention with great pleasure, and entered the large 
room, not, however, without a great deal of fear. Fortu- 
nately, Mr. Kolpikév was gone; there was no one there 
but a waiter who was cleaning up the table. I wanted 
to communicate to the waiter what had happened, and to 
explain to him that I was not to blame for it, but I recon- 
sidered the matter, and returned to our room in the 
gloomiest frame of mind. 

“What is the matter with our diplomat?” said Dub- 
kév. “He is, no doubt, deciding the fate of Europe!” 

“Oh, leave me alone!” I said, turning away morosely. 
After that I paced the room and reflected about Dubkév, 
who, I concluded, was not at all a good man. “ What 
sense is there in those eternal jokes, and in calling me 
‘diplomat?’ There is no fun in it. All he cares for is 
to win from Voldédya at cards, and to call on some ‘aunty.’ 
And there is nothing agreeable about him. Everything 
he says is a lie, or a mean remark, and he is always ready 
to ridicule a person. I think he is simply a stupid fellow, 
and a bad man.” I passed some five minutes in these re- 
flections, my hostile feeling for Dubkév increasing all the 
time. Dubkév, however, paid no attention to me, which 
provoked me still more. I was even angry with Volddya 
and Dmitri, because they were conversing with him. 

“Do you know what, gentlemen? We ought to pour 
water over the diplomat,” suddenly said Dubkév, glancing 
at me with a smile which to me appeared derisive and 
even treacherous, “for he is no good ; upon my word, he is 
no good !” 


THE QUARREL 315 


“Water ought to be poured over you! You are no 
good yourself,” I answered, smiling maliciously and for- 
getting that we were speaking “thou” to each other. 

This answer evidently surprised Dubkév, but he turned 
away with indifference, and continued his conversation 
with Volédya and Dmitri. 

I tried to take part in their discussion, but felt that I 
could not feign, and again betook myself to my corner, 
where I remained till our departure. 

When we had paid our bills and were putting on our 
overcoats, Dubkdév turned to Dmitri: “ Well, where will 
Orestes and Pylades go? I suppose home, to talk about 
love. Very well, but we will call on dear ‘aunty,’ — that 
is better than your sour friendship.” 

“ How dare you speak so, and make fun of us?” I sud- 
denly called out, walking up close to him, and waving 
my arms. “How dare you make fun of feelings which 
you do not understand? I shall not permit you to do 
that. Shut up!” I called out, and grew myself silent, 
not knowing what to say further, and breathless with 
emotion. Dubkdév was surprised at first, then wanted to 
smile and take it as a joke, but finally, to my great amaze- 
ment, he was frightened and lowered his eyes. 

“T am not making fun of you or your feelings. I was 
just talking,” he said, evasively. 

“That’s it!” I cried, but at the same time I felt 
ashamed of myself and sorry for Dubkév, whose red, 
disconcerted countenance expressed genuine suffering. 

«What is the matter with you?” spoke Volddya and 
Dmitri at once. “ Nobody intended to insult you.” 

“No, he wanted to offend me.” 

“T declare, your brother is a terrible gentleman,” said 
Dubkév, just as he was walking out of the door, so that 
he could not hear what I would say. 

It may be, I should have run after him, to tell him a 
lot of rude things, but just then the waiter who had been 


316 YOUTH 


present during my affair with Kolpikdév, handed me my 
overcoat, and I at once quieted down, simulating, before 
Dmitri, only just enough anger not to make my sudden 
calm appear too strange. Next day I met Dubkdév in 
Volédya’s room. We did not mention the affair, but 
spoke “ you” to each other, and it became even harder for 
us to look into each other’s eyes. 

The memory of my quarrel with Kolpikév, who gave 
me de ses nowvelles neither on the following day, nor later, 
was for many years terribly vivid and oppressive to me. 
I shuddered and shrieked for five years to come every 
time I thought of the unavenged insult, but consoled 
myself whenever I recalled with self-satisfaction how 
bravely I had conducted myself in my affair with Dub- 
kév. It was not until much later that I began to look in 
an entirely different way upon this matter, and with 
comical pleasure to recall my quarrel with Kolpikdv, and 
to regret the undeserved insult which I had offered the 
good fellow Dubkév. 

When, that very evening, I told Dmitri of the episode 
with Kolpikév, whose appearance I described to him in 
detail, he was greatly surprised. 

«Yes, it is the same man!” he said. “Think of it! 
this Kolpikév is a well-known scoundrel and gambler, 
but, above all, a coward, who was kicked out of the army 
by his friends, for having received a box on his ears and 
refusing to fight for it. Where did he get that boldness 
from?” he added, looking at me with a kindly smile. 
“He did not call you anything else but ‘ boor’ ?” 

“ No,” I answered, blushing. 

“Tt is not good, but it is no great misfortune!” Dmitri 
consoled me. 

Not until much later in my life, when I was able to 
reflect upon this matter calmly, did I make the very 
plausible suggestion that Kolpikdév had at last felt, after 
many years, that it was safe to attack me, and so he 


THE QUARREL 3 yi 


avenged upon me, in the presence of his friend without 
the moustaches, the box on his ears which he had once 


received, just as I had avenged his “boor” on innocent 
Dubkév. 


XVIL 
I AM GETTING READY TO MAKE CALLS 


WHEN I awoke the next morning, my first thought was 
of the incident with Kolpikév. I growled again and ran 
up and down my room, but there was nothing to be done; 
besides, it was the last day I was to pass in Moscow, and, 
according to papa’s order, I had to make the calls which 
he had written out for me on a piece of paper. Papa’s 
care of us consisted not so much in morality and educa- 
tion as in the worldly relations. On the paper was 
written, in his broken, rapid handwriting: “1, on Prince 
Ivan Ivanovich, by all means; 2, on the Ivins, by all 
means; 3, on Prince Mikhaylo; 4, on Princess Nekhlyti- 
dov and Princess Valakhin, if you have time.” And, of 
course, on the curator, the rector, and the professors, 

Dmitri dissuaded me from making the last visits, saying 
that it was not only unnecessary, but even improper; but 
on the rest I had to call by all means on that day. The 
first two visits, after which was written “by all means,” 
frightened me more especially. Prince Ivan Ivdnovich 
was general-in-chief, old, rich, and unmarried; conse- 
quently I, a sixteen-year-old student, should have to 
meet him personally, which, I surmised, could not be 
flattering for me. The Ivins also were rich, and their 
father was some kind of an important general in the civil 
service, who had called upon us, during grandmother’s 
lifetime, but once. After grandmother’s death, I noticed 


that the youngest Ivin kept aloof from us, and put on 
318 


I AM GETTING READY TO MAKE CALLS 319 


airs. The eldest Ivin, so I heard, had finished his course 
of jurisprudence, and was serving somewhere in St. 
Petersburg ; the second, Sergyéy, whom I had worshipped 
once, was also in St. Petersburg, a big, fat cadet in the 
Corps of the Pages. 

In my youth I not only did not like any relations with 
people who considered themselves higher than I, but such 
relations were unbearably painful to me, on account of 
my continuous fear of insult, and of my exertion of all 
my mental powers, in order to prove to them my inde- 
pendence. But, since I was not going to fulfil papa’s 
order in regard to the last point, I had to extenuate my 
guilt by calling on the others. I walked to and fro in 
my room, examining my clothes, which were laid out on 
chairs, and my sword and hat, and was getting ready to 
go, when old Grap arrived with Ilinka to congratulate 
me. Father Grap was a Russified German, unbearably 
repulsive, fawning, and very often intoxicated. He used 
to call only when he wanted to ask for something, and 
papa sometimes took him to his cabinet, but he never 
was invited to dinner with us. His humility and beggary 
were so welded with a certain external kindliness and 
attachment for our house, that all accounted his apparent 
loyalty to us as a great credit to him, but I could not 
make myself like the man, and whenever he spoke I felt 
ashamed for him. 

I was very much dissatisfied with the arrival of these 
guests, and did not attempt to conceal my dissatisfaction. 
I had grown, like the rest, to look at [inka from on high, 
and he had accustomed himself to consider us right in 
doing so, which made it rather unpleasant for me, when I 
saw him just such a student as myself. It seemed to 
me that he, too, had some scruples in my presence on 
account of this equality. I greeted him coldly and did 
not ask either him or his father to be seated, feeling rather 
awkward about inviting them to do what they might 


320 YOUTH 


do without my invitation, and ordered up the carriage. 
Ilinka was a good, scrupulously honest, and very clever 
young man, but he was what is called a cranky fellow; 
he used to be continually overcome, and apparently with- 
out any cause, by some extreme moods: he either grew 
lackadaisical, or sarcastic, or peevish, for the merest trifle ; 
even now, he was in the last frame of mind. He said noth- 
ing, maliciously looked at me and at his father, and only, 
when addressed, smiled his submissive, forced smile, 
under which he was in the habit of concealing all his 
feelings, but especially the feeling of shame for his father, 
which he could not help experiencing before us. 

“ Yes, sir, Nikoldy Petrdévich,” said the old man to me, 
following me all over the room while I was dressing, and 
reverentially fingering a silver snuff-box which grandmother 
had presented to him. “The moment I found out from 
my son that you had passed your examinations so excel- 
lently, — everybody knows what a mind you have,—I 
at once hastened to congratulate you, my friend. I used 
to carry you on my shoulders, you know, and God knows 
that I love you all like my own family, and Ilinka asked 
me to take him to you. He, too, is used to you.” 

Ilinka sat all that time silent at the window, ostensibly 
examining my cocked hat, and just audibly muttering 
something to himself. 

“Well, I wanted to ask you, Nikoldy Petrdévich,” con- 
tinued the old man, “whether my Ilinka passed good 
examinations. He told me he would be with you, so do 
not abandon him. Look after him, and advise him.” 

«Yes, he passed excellently,” I answered, looking at 
Ilinka, who felt my glance resting upon him, and blushed, 
and ceased to move his lips. 

“And may one pass the day with you?” said the old 
man, with a timid smile, as though he was afraid of me, 
and keeping so close to me, wherever I moved, that the 
odour of liquor and tobacco, with which he was saturated, 


I AM GETTING READY TO MAKE CALLS 321 


did not leave me for a second. I was angry, because he 
placed me in such a false position in regard to his son, 
and because he distracted my attention from an exceed- 
ingly important occupation, that of dressing; but, in 
particular, that odour of brandy so pursued me that I 
was all put out, and I told him coldly that I could not 
be with Iinka, as I should not be at home all day. 

“ Father, you wanted to go to sister,” said Ilinka, smil- 
ing, and not looking at me, “and I have some business, 
too.” 

I felt even more annoyed and ashamed, and, to soften 
my refusal, hastened to add that I should not be at home, 
because I had to be at the house of Prince Iv4n Ivdnovich, 
of Princess Korndkov, of Ivin, the one who occupied such 
a distinguished place, and that I should, no doubt, dine 
with Princess Nekhlytidov. I thought that they would 
not have any cause for annoyance, if they knew on what 
distinguished people I was going to call. When they 
got ready to go, I invited Ilinka to come to see me some 
other time; but Ilinka only muttered something and 
smiled with a forced expression. I could see that he 
would never again set foot in my room. 

I soon after drove out to make my calls. Volddya, 
whom I had asked early in the morning to go with me, 
in order that I might not feel so awkward, had refused, 
under the pretext that it would be too sentimental an 
affair for two brothers to travel together in one small 
vehicle. 


Xx VILE 
THE VALAKHINS 


AnD so [ drove out myself. The first visit, in order of 
location, was at the house of the Valdkhins, on Sivtsov 
Vrazhék. I had not seen Sénichka for three years, and 
my love for her had, naturally, passed away long ago, but 
in my soul was left a vivid and touching memory of my 
childish love. During those three years I had sometimes 
thought of her so clearly and with such strength of feel- 
ing, that I had shed tears and felt myself again in love, 
but such a mood lasted only a few minutes, and did not 
soon return. 

I knew that Sénichka had been abroad with her 
mother, where they remained two years or more, and 
where, so I was told, they had had an accident in a stage- 
coach, during which Sdnichka’s face was all cut up by the 
broken glass of the coach, whereby she had lost her good 
looks. On my way to their house I vividly recalled 
Sdénichka of old, and wondered how I should find her 
now. On account of her two years’ sojourn abroad, I 
somehow imagined her to have grown exceedingly tall, 
with a beautiful figure, serious and majestic, but unusually 
attractive. My imagination refused to represent her with 
a face disfigured by scars; on the contrary, having heard 
somewhere of a passionate lover who had remained true 
to the object of his love, in spite of her disfiguring pock- 
marks, I endeavoured to think that I was in love with 


Sénichka, in order to have the merit of remaining true to 
322 


THE VALAKHINS B25 


her, in spite of her scars. In truth, I was not in love 
when I approached the house of the Valakhins, but, all 
my former memories of love having been agitated, I was 
well prepared to fall in love, and I desired it, especially, 
since I felt ashamed of being the only one among all 
my friends, who was not in love. 

The Valakhins lived in a small, neat frame house, with 
an entrance from the courtyard. Upon ringing the bell, 
which was at that time a great rarity in Moscow, the 
door was opened by a tiny, neatly dressed boy. He either 
did not know, or did not wish to tell me, whether the 
family was at home, and, leaving me in the dark ante- 
chamber, ran away into a still darker corridor. 

I was left quite awhile alone in that dark room, from 
which, in addition to the entrance and the corridor, there 
was another closed door, and I partly marvelled at the 
gloomy character of the house, and partly supposed that 
it was the proper thing with people who had been abroad. 
About five minutes later, the door into the parlour was 
opened from within by the same boy, and he led me to a 
tidy, but not richly furnished, sitting-room, into which 
Sénichka entered right after me. 

She was seventeen years old. She was very small of 
stature and very thin, and the colour of her face was 
sallow and unhealthy. No scars were to be noticed on 
her face, but the exquisite bulging eyes, and the bright, 
kindly, happy smile were the same that I had known and 
loved in my childhood. I had not expected her to be 
like this, and so was not able at once to pour out upon 
her all the feeling which I had prepared on my way up. 
She gave me her hand, frankly shook mine in the English 
fashion, which was then quite as rare a thing as the bell, 
and made me sit down near her upon the sofa. 

“Oh, how glad I am to see you, dear Nicolas,” she 
said, looking straight into my face with such a sincere 
expression on her countenance that I heard in the words 


324 YOUTH 


“dear Nicolas” a friendly, and not a condescending tone. 
To my astonishment, she was, after her journey abroad, 
even simpler, lovelier, and more familiar in her address 
than before. I noticed two small scars near the nose 
and upon an eyebrow, but her wonderful eyes and smile 
tallied with my recollections, and sparkled as of old. 

“How you have changed!” she said. “You are a 
big man now! And I, how do you find me?” 

“Ah, I should not have recognized you,” I answered, 
though I was all the time thinking that I should have 
known her. I again felt myself in that careless, happy 
frame of mind in which, five years before, I had danced 
the “ grandfather” with her at grandmother’s ball. 

“ Well, have I grown much homelier?” she asked me, 
shaking her little head. 

“No, not at all! You have grown a little taller, are 
older,” I hastened to answer, “but, on the contrary —I 
even —” 

“Oh, well, it makes no difference. And do you 
remember our dances and games, and St. Jéréme, and 
Madame Dorat ?” (I did not remember any Madame Dorat ; 
she was evidently carried away by the pleasure of childish 
reminiscences, and mixed them up.) “Oh, it was such a 
glorious time!” she continued, and the same smile, no, 
a smile even better than the one IJ had retained in my 
memory, and the same eyes sparkled before me. While 
she was speaking I had time to consider the situation in 
which I found myself, and I concluded that just then 
I was in love. The moment I had decided this, my 
happy and careless mood left me, a mist covered all that 
was before me,— even her eyes and smile; I was 
ashamed of something, I blushed, and lost my ability to 
speak. 

“ These are different times now,” she continued, sighing 
and lightly raising her brows. “Everything is worse 
now, and we are worse, is it not so, Nicolas?” 


THE VALAKHINS 325 


I could not answer, and looked at her in silence. 

“Where are now all those Ivins and Korndkovs of 
those days? Do you remember them?” she continued, 
with some curiosity gazing at my blushing and frightened 
face. “It was a glorious time!” 

And still I could not answer. 

I was for a time brought out of my state of oppression 
by the arrival of Madame Valdkhin. I rose and bowed, 
and regained my ability to speak; on the other hand, a 
strange change took place in Sdnichka with the appear- 
ance of her mother. All her merriment and familiarity 
suddenly disappeared, even her smile was different, and, 
except for her stature, she became the young lady from 
abroad, that I had imagined I should find. It seemed 
that the change had no cause, because her mother smiled 
just as pleasantly, and in all her movements expressed 
the same meekness as of old. Madame Valdkhin seated 
herself in an armchair, and pointed out to me a place 
near her. She said something to her daughter in English, 
and Sdnichka went out, which gave me still further 
relief. 

Madame Valdkhin asked me about my family, about my 
brother and father, then told me of her bereavement, — 
the loss of her husband, — and finally, feeling that there 
was nothing left to talk about, looked at me in silence, as 
much as to say: “If you will get up, and bow, and leave, 
you will be doing very well, my dear!” but a strange thing 
happened. Sdnichka had returned to the room with some 
handiwork, and had seated herself in the other corner, so 
that I felt her glances upon me. While Madame Valé- 
khin was telling me about the loss of her husband, I once 
more recalled that I was in love, and I thought that the 
mother must have guessed it, and was again overcome by 
a fit of bashfulness, which was so strong that I felt myself 
unable to move a limb in a natural manner. I knew 
that in order to rise and leave, I should have to think of 


326 YOUTH 


how to place my leg, what to do with my head, and what 
with my hand,— in short, I felt almost the same sensa- 
tion as the evening before, when I had drunk half a bottle 
of champagne. I felt that I should not be able to manage 
it all, and consequently should not be able to rise, and I 
really could not rise. Madame Valaékhin must have won- 
dered when she saw my face as red as a lobster, and my 
complete immobility, but I decided that it was safer to 
stay in that stupid pose than to risk getting up and going 
in an awkward manner. 

And thus I sat for quite awhile, hoping that some 
unforeseen accident would help me out of this predica- 
ment. This accident presented itself in the shape of an 
insignificant young man, who entered the room with the 
manner of a familiar acquaintance, and politely bowed to 
me. Madame Valdkhin rose, excusing herself on the 
ground that she had to speak to her business manager, 
and looked at me with a perplexed expression, which 
said, “If you wish to stay here all the time, I shall not 
drive you away.” Exerting a terrible effort over myself, 
I rose, but was not able to bow, and, starting to leave, 
accompanied by looks of sympathy from mother and 
daughter, caught my foot in a chair which was not at 
all in my way. I did so because all my attention was 
directed to not catching my foot in the carpet over which 
I was walking. In the open air, where I tossed about 
and moaned so loud that Kuzmé several times asked me 
what I wished, this feeling disappeared, and I began 
calmly to reflect over my love for Sénichka, and over her 
relations to her mother, which seemed strange to me. 
When I later told father that Madame Valdkhin and her 
daughter were not on good terms, he said: 

«Yes, she torments the poor girl with her dreadful 
stinginess, and that is strange,” he added, with a feeling 
which was stronger than what he could have for a mere 
relative, “for she used to be such a dear, charming woman. 


THE VALAKHINS VA 


I cannot understand what made her change so. Did you 
not see in her house some kind of a secretary? What 
business has a Russian lady to keep a secretary?” he 
said, angrily walking away from me. 

«“ Yes, I did,” I answered. 

“Ts he, at least, good-looking ?” 

* No, not at all.” 

“ Incomprehensible,” said papa, angrily jerking his 
shoulder, and coughing. 

“So I am in love,” I thought, riding in my vehicle. 


2.0.4 
THE KORNAKOVS 


THE second visit in my round of calls was at the house 
of the Kornakovs. They were living in the second floor 
of a large house in the Arbét. The staircase was exceed- 
ingly fine and neat, but not magnificent. A canvas stair- 
carpet was held in place by shining brass rods, but there 
were no flowers, and no mirrors. The parlour, through 
which I passed over a brilliantly polished floor into the 
sitting-room, was furnished just as severely, coldly, and 
neatly ; everything shone and was solid, if not entirely 
new; but neither pictures, nor curtains, nor any other 
ornaments were to be seen. There were several princesses 
in the sitting-room. They all sat so correctly and so 
stolidly that it was quite apparent they sat differently 
when there were no guests. 

“ Mamma will be here soon,” said the oldest of them, 
seating herself near me. This princess entertained me 
for fifteen minutes, speaking so freely and cleverly that the 
conversation did not lag for a second; but it was too 
obvious she was entertaining, and so I did not like her. 
She told me, among other things, that her brother Stepdn, 
whom they called Etienne, and who had entered the 
School of Cadets two years ago, had been promoted to 
the rank of officer. When she spoke of her brother, 
especially of his having entered a regiment of hussars 


against his mother’s will, she looked frightened, and all 
328 


THE KORNAKOVS 329 


the younger princesses, who sat in silence, also looked 
frightened ; when she spoke of grandmother’s death, she 
looked sad, and all the younger princesses looked likewise ; 
when she recalled how I struck St. Jérdme, and was led 
out of the room, she laughed and showed her bad teeth, 
and all the princesses laughed and showed their bad 
teeth. 

Their mother entered, — the same little, wizened woman 
with the same wandering eyes and the same habit of 
looking at others while speaking to you. She took my 
hand, and raised her own to my lips for me to kiss, which 
I should not have done otherwise, as I did not consider 
it necessary. 

“ How glad I am to see you!” she spoke with her usual 
volubility, glancing at her daughters. “Oh, how he 
resembles his mamma! Don’t you think so, Lise?” 

Lise said that it was so, although I am quite sure that 
there was not the faintest resemblance to my mother. 

“So there you are,a bigman! You know, my Etienne, 
he is your cousin twice removed — no, not twice removed, 
— how isit, Lise? My mother was Varvara Dmitrievna, 
the daughter of Dmitri Nikolaevich, and your grandmother 
was Natalya Nikoldevna.” 

“That makes it three times removed,” said the eldest 
princess. 

“Oh, you are getting everything mixed,” her mother 
cried to her, angrily ; “ not at all thrice removed, but issws 
de germains, — that’s what you are with Etienne. He is an 
officer now, do you know? Only it is not good for him 
to have his freedom so soon. You young people ought 
to be kept in strong hands, like this! You are not angry 
with your old aunt for telling you the truth? I kept 
Etienne with severity, and I find that it is the mnght 
way.” 

«Yes, that is how we are related,’ she continued. 
“Prince Ivan Ivdnovich is my uncle, and was your 


330 YOUTH 


mother’s uncle. Consequently your mamma and I were 
first cousins — no, twice removed, yes, that’s it. Well, tell 
me: have you, my friend, called on Prince Ivan ?” 

I said I had not, but that I should that very day. 

“Oh, how can you?” she cried. “You ought to have 
made your first visit to him. You know that Prince Ivan 
is just like a father to you. He has no children, conse- 
quently you and my children are his only heirs. You 
must honour him according to his years and position in 
the world, and everything. I know, you young people 
in these years no longer count your family ties, and do. 
not like old men; but you hear what your old aunt is 
telling you, because she loves you, and she loved your 
mamma, and also loved and respected your grandmother 
very much. Do go there by all means, by all means go 
there!” 

I told her I would by all means, and as the visit had, 
in my opinion, lasted long enough, I rose and wanted to 
leave, but she held me back. 

“ No, wait a minute. Where is your father, Lise? Call 
him in. He will be so happy to see you,” she continued, 
turning tome. About two minutes later Prince Mikhdylo 
entered. He was a thickset gentleman, very untidily 
dressed, badly shaven, and with such an indifferent expres- 
sion on his face that it looked stupid. He was not at all 
glad to see me, at least he did not say so; but the prin- 
cess, whom he evidently feared very much, said to him: 

“Am I not right? Véldemar” (she had obviously for- 
gotten my name) “ resembles his mamma!” and she winked 
in such a way that the prince, guessing what she was 
after, walked up to me, and, with an impassive and even 
dissatisfied expression on his face, offered me his unshaven 
cheek for a kiss. 

“You are not yet dressed, and you have to drive out,” 
said the princess immediately after, in a tone which, no 
doubt, was her usual one in relation to the people of the 


THE KORNAKOVS ool 


house. “ You want to provoke them again, to make them 
angry.” 

“ Directly, directly, my dear,’ said Prince Mikhdylo, 
going out. I bowed and left. 

IT heard for the first time that we were heirs of Prince 


Ivan Ivanovich, and that gave me an unpleasant sensa- 
tion. 


eX: 
THE fVINS 


THE impending obligatory visit weighed even more 
heavily on my mind. But before calling on the prince, 
my way lay past the Ivins. They were living in Tver 
Street, in an immense, beautiful house. I walked, not 
without fear, up the parade entrance, where a porter stood 
with a staff. 

I asked him whether they were at home. 

“Whom do you wish? The general’s son is at home,” 
said the porter to me. 

“ And the general himself?” I asked, courageously. 

“T shall have to announce you. What shall I say?” 
said the porter and rang the bell. A lackey’s feet in half- 
boots appeared on the staircase. I was so intimidated, 
without knowing why, that I told the lackey not to 
announce me to the general, that I should go first to see 
the general’s son. As I walked up this large staircase, it 
seemed to me that I had become dreadfully small, not in 
the transferred, but in the real, sense of the word. I had 
experienced the same feeling as my vehicle drove up to 
the great entrance: it appeared to me that the vehicle, the 
horse, and the coachman had all become small. The gen- 
eral’s son was lying on a divan, with an open book before 
him, and asleep, when I entered the room. His tutor, 
Frost, who was still staying in their house, walked in 
behind me with his smart gait, and woke up his charge. 


Ivin did not express any especial pleasure at seeing me, 
332 











Of fo 938A srt te yoteloT to ti51104 


BYVSA Wh Wadd FO vo aTHO wees yori isto 8} 
y \ 2 iN a 


b.O.@ 
THE fyINs 


fue impending obligatory visit weighed even more 
reavily on my mind. But before cailing on the prince, 
iy way lay past the Ivins. They wer living in Tver 
Street, in an immense, beautiful house. 1 walked, not 
gina fear, up (b< parade -entrauce, where a porter stood 
with a staff. 
{ asked him whether they were at home. 
“ Whom do you wish? The general’s son is at home,” 
i the porter to me. 
And the general himself 7” I asked, courageously. 
[ shall have to anmeunce you. What shall I say *” 
aii the porter an rast» fel! A laokey’s feet in half- 


ots appeared es i wae os 'hteotdadced, 
es HhOuL “kyeve i et beAoey deb tu 
pith attiva (iets ” : | swoAld go first to see 
weneral’s sub 4 ‘t,0ol ap this large staircase, it 


ito me that t hat weecome dreadfully small, not in 

he irausterred, but im the real, sense of the word. I had 
enced the same feeling as my vehicle drove up to 
'y great entrapee it appesred to me that the vehicle, the 
asi, and the coachman lied all become small. The gen- 

ia sen was lying on ¢ divan, with an open book before 
ad asleep, when I entered the room. His tutor, 

wes stil] staying in their house, walked iw 


wit. 'ya9 smart vait, and woke up his chary 
SS ally especial TAL ASU if ae iti ot 
Abe 


————————S00S 
Portrait of Tolstoy at the Age of 20 
Photogravure from Daguerreotype taken in 1848 





— astepeee Bou 

tg ee ee 
eee 
: he raha ea 
a oe 
oN : 


os ae, aie = Pee: r : “ i aey : 7 ie 
no he mon Y ie 7 Wi ie 7 a AT ty 

Gey SR aad 00 a 

See er wee a: 2 ai eo ee 


Crh 
Bee Len 
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ei aber a. 
+r iat 
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Pee 


aang 


— 


‘Garde 
: 


af 
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Bh) 
¥ mi or 1 
? 


: 
Pa, 


wh 
mis 
a 


bor 


ans! 
i. aa 


Bi 
ha a 
Ti ee tet | 


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tos 


is 





ie whe SS 
Dakuens 
- - 


awk Y 
, 


THE {VINS 330 


and I noticed that he looked at my eyebrows while speak- 
ing to me. Although he was very civil, it seemed to me 
that he was entertaining me, like the princess, that he did 
not feel himself particularly attracted to me, and that he 
had no need of my acquaintance, since he certainly had a 
different, his own, circle of friends. All this I concluded 
from the fact that he gazed at my eyebrows. In short, 
his relations with me were, however much it hurt me to 
acknowledge it, very nearly the same as mine with Ilinka. 
I was becoming irritated, caught every glance of Ivin’s on 
the wing, and when his eyes met those of Frost, I trans- 
lated it by the question: “Why did he call on us any- 
way ?” : 

Having conversed with me awhile, Ivin said that his 
parents were at home, and asked me whether I should not 
like to go down with him to see them. 

“T shall be dressed at once,” he added, as he left the 
room, though he was well dressed as it was,— in a new 
coat and white vest. A few minutes later he came out in 
his uniform, all buttoned up, and we walked down together. 
The gala rooms through which we passed were exceed- 
ingly large, high, and, I think, luxuriously appointed, 
for there was something of marble, of gold, of muslin- 
wrapped objects, of mirrors. Madame Ivin entered 
through another door into a small room behind the sitting- 
room, at the same time with us.. She received me in a 
friendly and familiar manner, seated me near her, and 
sympathetically asked me about our whole family. 

Madame Ivin, whom I had seen in passing two or three 
times before, and whom I now watched attentively, pleased 
me very much. She was tall, thin, very white, and seemed 
to be continually sad and emaciated. Her smile was sad, 
but exceedingly kind, her eyes large, tired, and slightly 
squinting, which gave her a still sadder and more attract- 
ive aspect. She sat, not bending over, but somehow 
flagging all her body, and all her movements were droop- 


4 


334 YOUTH 


ing. She spoke indolently, but the sound of her voice and 
her enunciation, with the indistinct utterance of r and 1, 
were agreeable. She did not entertain me. My answers 
relative to my family obviously afforded her a melancholy 
interest, as though, hearing me, she sadly recalled better 
times. Her son had gone out somewhere; she silently 
looked at me for about two minutes, and suddenly burst 
into tears. I was sitting in front of her and could not 
think what to say or do. She continued to weep, without 
looking at me. At first I was sorry for her, then I thought : 
“Had I not better console her, and how is it to be done?” 
and finally I was angry, because she had placed me in such 
an uncomfortable situation. “Is it possible I have so 
piteous an appearance ?” JI thought, “or is she doing it on 
purpose, to find out what I will do under the circum- 
stances ?” 

“Tt would be improper for me to leave now, as though 
I were running away from her tears,’ I continued to 
think. JI moved in my chair, at least to remind her of 
my presence. 

“Oh, how foolish I am!” she said, looking at me, and 
trying to smile. “There are days when I weep without 
any cause.” 

She was looking for the handkerchief near her on the 
sofa, and suddenly burst into more intense weeping. 

“O Lord, how ridiculous it is that I should cry all the 
time. I loved your mother so, we were so friendly — 
were — and —” 

She found her handkerchief, covered her face with it 
and continued to weep. I was again in an awkward 
predicament, and it lasted quite awhile. I was both 
annoyed, and very sorry for her. Her tears seemed to be 
sincere, and I thought that she was not weeping so much 
for my mother, as because she was not happy now, but 
had been much happier in those days. I do not know 
how it would all have ended if young {vin had not come 


ca ~ 
THE IVINS 335 


in and said that father [vin wanted to see her. She rose, 
and was about to leave, when {vin himself entered. He 
was a short, strongly built, gray-haired old gentleman, 
with thick black eyebrows, entirely gray, closely cropped 
hair, and a very austere and firm expression of the mouth. 

I rose and bowed to him, but {vin, who had three 
decorations on his green dress coat, not only did not 
answer my salutation, but hardly looked at me, so that 
I suddenly felt that I was not a man, but some worth- 
less thing, — a chair or window or, if a man, then such as 
does not in any way differ from a chair or window. 

“My dear, you have not written yet to the countess,” 
he said to his wife in French, with a passionless, though 
firm expression. 

“Good-bye, M. Irteneff,” Madame {vin said to me, 
suddenly nodding her head haughtily and, like her son, 
looking at my eyebrows. I bowed once more to her 
and to her husband, and again my salutation had an 
effect as if a window had been opened or closed. Student 

vin, however, took me to the door and told me on the 

way that he should attend the St. Petersburg University 
after that, because his father had received a place there, 
mentioning some very important office. 

“Well, whatever papa may say,” I muttered to my- 
self, seating myself in the vehicle, “my foot shall never 
cross their threshold again. That blubberer cries, look- 
ing at me as though I were some ill-omened person, and 

vin is a swine that does not greet one. I'll give it to 
him!” Idid not have the least idea how I was going 
to give it to him, though the remark seemed appropriate 
enough. 

I had later to listen often to father’s persuasive advice 
that I ought to cultivate that acquaintance, saying that 1 
could not expect a man in his position to occupy himself 
with such a boy as I was; but I stood my ground for a 
long time. 





>. .G Ws 
PRINCE IVAN IVANOVICH 


“Now, the last visit in Nikitskaya Street,” I said to 
Kuzma, and we drove to the house of Prince Ivdn Ivdn- 
ovich. 

After passing through several ordeals of visiting, I 
generally gained self-confidence, and so even now drove 
up to the prince’s with a sufficiently calm spirit, when 
I suddenly recalled the words of Madame Kornakov that 
I was an heir; in addition, I noticed two carriages at the 
entrance, and my former shyness came over me. 

It seemed to me that the old porter, who opened the 
door for me, and the lackey, who took off my overcoat, 
and the three ladies and two gentlemen, whom I found 
in the sitting-room, and especially Prince Ivan Ivanovich 
himself, who sat on a sofa in citizen’s clothes, — it 
seemed to me that all these were looking at me as 
an heir, and consequently with malevolence. The prince 
was very gracious to me, kissed me, that is, he applied for 
a second his soft, dry, and cold lips to my cheek, in- 
quired about my occupations and plans, joked with me, 
asked me whether I still was writing verses such as I had 
written for grandmother’s name-day, and invited me to 
dine with him that very day. But the more he was 
gracious, the more it appeared to me that he wanted to 
treat me kindly only to avoid showing how displeased 


he was with the idea that I was his heir. He had 
336 


PRINCE IVAN IVANOVICH B31 


a habit, caused by the false teeth of which his mouth was 
full, of raising his upper lip every time he said some- 
thing, and drawing it into his nostrils, and as he was 
doing so now, I imagined he said to himself: “ Boy, boy, 
I know without you that you are an heir,” and so forth. 

When we were small we used to call Prince Ivan 
Ivanovich grandfather; but now, in my capacity of heir, 
my tongue refused to roll out “grandfather,” and to say 
“Your Highness,” as one of the gentlemen present said, 
seemed humiliating to me, so that I tried during my 
whole conversation not to address him directly. But 
more than anything I was put out by the old princess, 
who was also an heir of the prince, and who was living 
in his house. During the whole dinner, when I sat by 
the side of the princess, I surmised that she did not 
speak to me because she hated me for being just such an 
heir as she, and that the prince paid no attention to our 
side of the table, because we, the princess and I, were 
heirs and, consequently, equally detestable to him. 

«Yes, you will not believe me how uncomfortable I 
was,” I said that very evening to Dmitri, trying to brag 
of my feeling of disgust at the thought that I was an 
heir (I considered it a fine feeling), “how uncomfortable 
I was the two hours I passed with the prince. He is 
a fine fellow, and was very gracious to me,” I said, trying, 
in reality, to impress my friend with the fact that I was 
not saying all that because I felt myself humbled by the 
prince, “but,” I continued, “the thought that I mignt 
be looked upon like the princess who is living at his 
house and fawning before him, is a terrible thought. He 
is a beautiful old man, and exceedingly good and gentle 
to everybody, yet it was painful to see how he maltreated 
the princess. That abominable money spoils all relations !” 

“Do you know, I think it would be best to speak 
frankly to the prince,” I said, “and tell him that I re- 
spect him as a man, but that I do not think of his 


338 YOUTH 


inheritance, and ask him not to leave me anything, and 
that only under such conditions would I visit him.” 

Dmitri did not laugh when I told him this, but, on 
the contrary, fell to musing and, after a few moments’ 
silence, said to me: 

“Do you know, you are wrong. Either you have no 
business to surmise that they are thinking of you in 
the same way as of that princess of yours, or, if you do 
surmise it, you must go farther and surmise that you 
know what they might think of you, but that these 
thoughts are so far from you that you despise them and 
will do nothing on their basis. You must surmise that 
they are surmising that you are surmising it — but, in 
short,” he added, feeling that he was getting snarled up 
in his consideration, “it will be best not to surmise it 
at all.” 

My friend was quite right. Much, much later I con- 
vinced myself from the experiences of my life that it was 
harmful to think, and still more harmful to express much 
that looks very noble but ought to be for ever concealed 
from all in the heart of every man, and that noble words 
rarely harmonize with noble deeds. Iam convinced that 
when a good intention has been uttered, it is hard, and 
more often impossible, to carry out that good intention. 
But how is one to abstain from uttering the noble, self- 
satisfied impulses of youth? Only much later one thinks 
of them and regrets them as a flower which one impa- 
tiently plucked before it was unfolded and then saw 
withered and crushed upon the ground. 

Though I had just told Dmitri, my friend, that money 
spoiled all relations, I discovered the next morning, before 
our departure into the country, that I had squandered all 
my money on all kinds of pictures and Turkish pipes, and 
so borrowed of him for the journey twenty roubles, which 
he had offered me, and which I did not pay back to him 
for a long time. 


XXII. 
A CONFIDENTIAL TALK WITH MY FRIEND 


THIS talk of ours took place in the phaeton on the road 
to Kuntsévo. Dmitri dissuaded me from calling upon his 
mother in the morning, but came for me after dinner, in 
order to take me for the whole evening, even overnight, 
to the summer residence, where his family was staying. 
Only after we left the city behind us, and the muddy and 
motley streets and unbearable deafening noise of the pave- 
ment gave way to the broad view of the fields and the soft 
rumbling of the wheels on the dusty road, and the fragrant 
vernal air and broad expanse surrounded me on all sides, — 
only then I recovered from the manifold new impressions 
and from the consciousness of freedom which had com- 
pletely entangled me in the last two days. Dmitri was 
communicative and meek, did not rearrange his necktie 
with his head, nor wink and blink nervously. I was sat- 
isfied with those noble sentiments which I had expressed 
to him, and supposed that for these he condoned my 
shameful affair with Kolpikdév, and no longer despised me 
for it. We chatted ina friendly manner about many con- 
fidential affairs which one does not communicate under all 
circumstances. Dmitri told me about his family, whom I 
did not know yet, about his mother, aunt, and sister, and 
about the one whom Volddya and Dubkév regarded as his 
passion and called “red-haired.” He spoke of his mother 
with a certain cold and solemn praise, as if to anticipate 


any retort upon that subject; his aunt he mentioned with 
339 


340 YOUTH 


enthusiasm, but not without some degree of condescen- 
sion; of his sister he spoke very little and as if ashamed 
to say anything about her; but of the “red-haired ” girl, 
whose real name was Lyubév Sergyéevna, and who was 
an old maid that, standing in some family relation to the 
Nekhlytidovs, was living at their house, he spoke with 
animation. 

« Yes, she is a remarkable girl,” he said, blushing shame- 
facedly, but looking more boldly into my eyes. “She is 
not a young girl, I might even say she is old, and not at 
all good-looking, but what stupidity and nonsense to love 
beauty! I can’t understand it, it is so stupid,” he said, as 
though he had just discovered this latest and extraordinary 
truth, “ but such a soul, such a heart and principles — I 
am sure, you will not find a girl like her in our day.” 

I do not know where Dmitri had got his habit of say- 
ing that everything good was rare in our day. He was 
fond of repeating this expression, and it somehow fitted 
him well. 

“Only I am afraid,” he continued, calmly, after he had 
in his mind completely demolished all people who were so 
stupid as to love beauty, “I am afraid that you will not 
understand or appreciate her soon: she is modest, and 
even retiring, and does not like to show her beautiful and 
remarkable qualities. Now, mother, who, you will see, is 
a beautiful and clever woman, has known Lyubdv for some 
years, but is not able and does not want to understand her. 
Even yesterday —I will tell you why I was out of sorts 
when you asked me about it. Two days ago Lyubév Ser- 
gyéevna wanted me to take her to Iv4n Yakovlevich, — 
you have, no doubt, heard of Iv4n Yakovlevich, who is 
supposed to be insane, but in reality is a remarkable man. 
Lyubdv Sergyéevna is extremely religious, I must tell you, 
and understands Ivd4n Ydkovlevich thoroughly. She fre- 
quently goes to see him, to converse with him and to give 
him money for the poor, which she has earned herself. 


A CONFIDENTIAL TALK WITH MY FRIEND 34] 


She is a wonderful woman, you will see. Well, so I drove 
with her to Ivan Yakovlevich, and I am very grateful to 
her for having seen this remarkable man. Mother refuses 
to understand this, and sees nothing but superstition in it. 
Yesterday this was the cause of my first quarrel with my 
mother, and it was pretty serious,” he concluded, convul- 
sively jerking his neck, as though in recollection of the 
feeling which he had experienced during that quarrel. 

“ Well, how do you think about it? That is, when you 
consider what will come of it — or have you talked with 
her of what will be, and how your love and friendship wili 
end?” I asked, wishing to abstract him from his unpleas- 
ant memory. 

“ You ask whether I am thinking of marrying her?” he 
asked me, blushing again, but turning boldly around and 
looking into my face. 

«Well, really,” I thought, calming myself, “that’s all 
right, we are grown-up men, — two friends travelling in a 
phaeton and discussing our future lives. Any outsider 
would be pleased to hear and see us.” 

“Why not?” he continued, after my affirmative an- 
swer. “My aim, like that of every sensible man, is to 
be as happy and as good as possible; and if she will only 
consent when I am entirely independent, I shall be hap- 
pier and better with her than with the greatest beauty in 
the world.” 

While conversing, we did not notice that we had 
approached Kuntsévo, and that the sky was clouded, and 
it was getting ready to rain. The sun stood low on our 
right, over the old trees of the Kuntsdvo garden, and half 
of the brilliant red disk was shrouded by a gray, weakly 
transparent cloud; from the other half burst forth in 
sprays the parcelled fiery beams and with striking clear- 
ness illuminated the old trees of the garden, that stood 
immovable and cast their thick green tops against the 
brightly luminous spot of the azure sky. The splendour 


342 YOUTH 


and light of this part of the heavens was in sharp contrast 
to a heavy lilac cloud which hung in front of us over a 
young birch grove that was visible on the horizon. 

A little more to the right could be seen, beyond bushes 
and trees, the variegated roofs of the cottages, some of 
which reflected the bright sunbeams, while others assumed 
the gloomy aspect of the other side of the heavens. At 
the left, and below us, lay the blue expanse of a motion- 
less pond, surrounded by pale-green willows that were 
darkly reflected on its dull, seemingly convex surface. 
Beyond the pond, a blackish fallow field stretched along 
the incline of a hill, and the straight line of a bright green 
balk, which cut through it, went away into the distance 
and was lost in the leaden, threatening horizon. On both 
sides of the soft road, over which the phaeton swayed in 
even measure, stood out the green, succulent, tufty rye, 
which here and there was beginning to form its stalks. 
The air was perfectly calm, and redolent with freshness ; 
the verdure of the trees and leaves and rye was motion- 
less and pure and bright. It seemed as though every 
blade were living its separate, full and happy life. Near 
the road I noticed a black footpath, which meandered 
between the dark-green rye that had risen to one-fourth 
of its full stature, and this footpath for some reason vividly 
reminded me of the country, and, through the reminiscence 
of the country, by some strange association of ideas, 
brought before me with intense vividness Sdénichka and 
the fact that I was in love with her. 

In spite of all my friendship for Dmitri and the pleas- 
ure which his frankness caused me, I did not want to 
know anything more about his feelings and intentions in 
regard to Lyubdév Sergyéevna, but was very anxious to 
tell him about all my love for Sénichka, which seemed to 
me to be a love of a much higher sort. But I could not 
make up my mind to tell him straight out how good I 
thought it would be when, having married Sédnichka, 


A CONFIDENTIAL TALK WITH MY FRIEND 343 


IT should be living in the country, how I should have 
little children who would crawl on the ground and would 
call me papa, and how happy I should be when he 
would come with his wife, Lyubév Sergyéevna, to see me, 
in their travelling clothes. Instead of all that I said, 
pointing to the sun, “ Dmitri, see how magnificent !” 

Dmitri did not say anything to me, being obviously 
dissatisfied because to his confession, which had, no doubt, 
cost him an effort, I had answered by directing his atten- 
tion to Nature, to which he was generally indifferent. 
Nature affected him quite differently from me: it affected 
him not so much by its beauty as by its intrinsic interest. 
He loved it more with his mind than with his feelings. 

“T am very happy,’ I said to him soon after, without 
paying any attention to his preoccupation with his own 
thoughts and to his complete indifference to what I might 
be telling him. “I have told you, you will remember, of 
a young lady with whom I was in love when I was a 
child: I saw her to-day,” I continued, enthusiastically, 
“and now I am in love with her in earnest —” 

And I told him, in spite of the continued expression of 
indifference upon his face, about my love and about all 
my plans for future conjugal happiness. And a strange 
thing happened: the moment I told him in detail of the 
whole power of my feeling, I began to feel that this feel- 
ing was diminishing. 

A light rain overtook us after we had entered the birch 
avenue which led to the summer residence, but we did 
not get wet. I knew that it was raining because a few 
drops fell upon my nose and hand, and because something 
was pattering on the young viscid leaves of the birches 
which suspended their motionless curly branches and 
received these pure transparent drops with evident enjoy- 
ment that expressed itself in the strong odour with which 
they filled the avenue. We jumped out of the vehicle, in 
order to run through the garden to the house. At the 


344 YOUTH 


very entrance to the house we ran against four ladies who 
were coming from the other direction with rapid steps, 
two of them carrying some handiwork, one of them with 
a book, and another with a lapdog. Dmitri introduced 
me on the spot to his mother, his sister, his aunt, and 
Lyubdv Sergyéevna. They stopped for a second, but the 
rain began to fall in earnest. 

« Let us go to the gallery ; there you will introduce him 
once more,” said the one whom I had taken for Dmitri’s 
mother, and we ascended the staircase together with the 
ladies. 


SEE 
THE NEKHLYUDOVS 


In the first moment I was impressed more particularly 
by Lyubdév Sergyéevna, who, with her lapdog in her 
hands, walked up the staircase behind the rest, in thick, 
hand-knit shoes, and who, stopping two or three times, 
carefully examined me, and every time after that kissed 
her dog. She was very ill-looking; red-haired, thin, short, 
and somewhat misshapen. What made her homely face 
still more homely was her odd hair-dressing, with a part- 
ing on one side (the kind of hair-dressing bald-headed 
women use). However much I tried to please my friend, 
I could not find one single beautiful feature in her. Her 
brown eyes, though they expressed kindliness, were too 
small and dim, and decidedly homely; even her hands, 
that characteristic feature, though not large and not badly 
shaped, were red and rough. 

When I walked up to the terrace after them, all the 
ladies but Vdérenka, Dmitri’s sister, who only looked atten- 
tively at me with her large dark gray eyes, said a few 
words to me, before taking up their work, while Vérenka 
began to read aloud her book, which she held on her 
knees, marking the place with her finger. 

Princess Marya Ivdnovna was a tall, stately woman of 
about forty years. One might have given her more, if 
one were to judge by the locks of half-gray hair that 
frankly stood out from under her cap. But by her fresh, 


exceedingly tender face, with hardly a wrinkle, and 
345 


346 YOUTH 


especially by the lively, merry sparkle of her eyes, she 
seemed to be much younger. Her eyes were brown and 
wide open, her lips were rather thin and somewhat severe, 
her nose fairly regular and slightly to the left, her hands 
were without rings, large, almost masculine, with beautiful 
elongated fingers. She wore a dark blue high-cut dress that 
fitted tightly over her stately, youthful waist, which was 
evidently her pride. She sat remarkably upright, and 
was sewing a dress. When I entered the gallery, she 
took my hand, drew me to her, as if desiring to examine 
me at close range, and said to me, as she looked at me 
with the same cold, open glance which Dmitri had, that 
she had known me for a long time from her son’s descrip- 
tion. She invited me to stay a whole day with her, in 
order that she might get better acquainted with me. 

“Do anything you may think of, without any regard 
to us, just as we shall not be inconvenienced by you, — 
walk around, read, listen, or sleep, if that gives you most 
pleasure,” she added. 

Séfya Ivdnovna was an old maid and a younger sister 
of the princess, but she looked older. She had that 
superabundant corpulence which one finds only in short, 
fat old maids who wear corsets. She looked as though 
all her vitality had sprouted upward with so much force 
that it threatened to choke her any minute. Her short 
fat hands could not unite below the down curve of the 
band of her waist, and she was not able even to see 
the tightly laced band itself. 

Though Princess Médrya Ivdnovna was black-haired 
and dark-eyed, and Sdéfya Ivdnovna blonde and with 
large, vivacious, and at the same time calm, blue eyes 
(a rare thing indeed), there was a great family resemblance 
between the sisters: there were the same expression, the 
same nose, the same lips; only Sdfya Ivdnovna’s nose 
and lips were a little thicker and turned to the right 
when she smiled, while with the princess they turned to 


Y 6 
THE NEKHLYUDOVS 347 


the left. Sdéfya Ivdnovna, to judge by her garments and 
hair-dressing, endeavoured to appear young, and would 
not have shown her gray locks, if she had had any. Her 
glance and her treatment of me at first appeared very 
haughty and flurried me, while with the princess, on the 
contrary, I felt completely at ease. It may be, her stout- 
ness and a certain resemblance to the picture of Catherine 
the Great, by which I was struck, gave her in my eyes 
that haughty mien; but I was thoroughly frightened 
when she looked fixedly at me and said, “The friends of 
our friends are our friends.” I calmed down and suddenly 
changed my opinion of her completely as soon as she grew 
silent ; after saying these words, she opened her mouth and 
drew a deep sigh. No doubt her corpulence had induced in 
her the habit of drawing a deep sigh after every few 
words, by opening her mouth a little and slightly rolling 
her large blue eyes. In this habit was somehow ex- 
pressed such a gentle kindliness that after that sigh I 
lost my fear of her, and began to like her. Her eyes 
were charming, her voice melodious and pleasant, and 
even those very circular lines of her body at that time 
of my youth did not seem devoid of beauty. 

Lyubdév Sergyéevna, as the friend of my friend, would 
soon say, I thought, something very friendly and familiar 
to me, and she, indeed, looked at me for quite awhile in 
silence, as if undecided whether that which she was going 
to say to me would not be too familiar; but she interrupted 
the silence only to ask me in what Faculty I was. Then 
she again looked for a long time sharply at me, obviously 
wavering as to whether she had better speak that intimate 
word or not, and I, noticing that hesitation in her, begged 
her by the expression on my face to tell it to me, but 
she only said, “ Nowadays, they say, they do not pay 
much attention to the sciences in the university,” and 
called up her lap-dog Suzette. 

Lyubév Sergyéevna spoke all that evening mostly in 


348 YOUTH 


such phrases, which had nothing to do with the matter 
in hand, and did not fit each other; but I had such con- 
fidence in Dmitri, and he kept on looking all the evening 
with such anxiety, now at me, and now at her, with an 
expression which meant, “ Well, what do you say ?” that, 
as is often the case, I was very far from formulating my 
thought in regard to her, though at heart I was convinced 
that there was nothing remarkable in Lyubdv Sergyéevna. 

Finally, the last person of that family, Varenka, was a 
plump girl sixteen years of age. Nothing but her dark 
gray eyes, which united merriment and quiet attention, 
and in expression very much resembled the eyes of her 
aunt, and a long blond braid, and an extremely tender 
aud beautiful hand, was attractive in her. 

“M. Nicolas, it must be tiresome to you to begin 
listening in the middle,” said Sdéfya Iv4novna with her 
kindly sigh, turning the piece of the dress which she was 
sewing. 

The reading just then stopped, because Dmitri had left 
the room. 

“ Or have you read ‘ Rob Roy’ before ?” 

At that time I considered it my duty, because of my 
student uniform if for no other reason, to answer the 
simplest question of persons with whom I was little 
acquainted, in a clever and original manner, and regarded 
it as shameful to give short, clear answers, such as, “ yes,” 
“no,” and so forth. Looking at my new fashionable 
pantaloons and the bright buttons of my coat, I answered 
that I had not read “ Rob Roy,” but that I liked very 
much to hear it read, because I preferred to read books 
from the middle rather than from the beginning. 

“Tt is twice as interesting. You can guess what was 
before, and what will follow after,” I added, smiling 
contentedly. 

The princess laughed, as it seemed to me, unnaturally, 
but I learned later that she had no other laugh. 


THE NEKHLYUDOVS 349 


“Tt must be the truth,” she said. “Well, shall you 
stay here long, Nicolas? You will not be offended at 
our not calling you Monsieur. When do you leave ?” 

“IT do not know; maybe to-morrow, and maybe we 
shall stay quite awhile yet,” I answered for some reason, 
although I was quite sure we should leave the next day. 

“JT wish you would stay, both for your sake and for 
Dmitri’s,” the princess remarked, looking somewhere into 
the distance. “At your years friendship is a glorious 
thing.” 

I felt that all were looking at me and waiting to hear 
what I should say, though Varenka pretended to be 
examining the work of her aunt; I felt that I was, so to 
speak, being examined, and that I had to show myself 
from my most advantageous side. 

“Yes, for me,” I said, “ Dmitri’s friendship is useful, 
but I cannot be useful to him: he isa thousand times 
better than I.” 

Dmitri was not there to hear me, or I should have 
been afraid of his feeling the insincerity of my words. 

The princess again laughed her unnatural laugh, which 
was natural to her. 

“Well, hearing him,” she said, “c'est vous qui étes un 
petit monstre de perfection.” 

“ Monstre de perfection, — that is excellent, I must re- 
member it,” I thought. 

“ However, not to mention you, he himself is a good 
example of that,” she continued, lowering her voice (which 
was particularly pleasing to me) and pointing with her 
eyes to Lyubdv Sergyéevna. “He has discovered in poor 
aunty” (thus they called Lyubdév Sergyéevna), “ whom I 
have known these twenty years with her Suzette, perfec- 
tions which I had never suspected — Varya, tell them to 
bring me a glass of water,” she added, again gazing into 
the distance, probably considering that it was yet too 
early, or that I ought not to be initiated at all in their 


350 YOUTH 


family relations, “or no, he had better go. He is doing 
nothing, but you continue to read. Go, my dear, right 
through the door and, having walked fifteen paces, stop 
and say in a loud voice, ‘ Peter, bring Marya Ivdnovna a 
glass of ice-water!’” she said to me, and again laughed her 
unnatural laugh. 

“She, no doubt, wants to say something about me,” 
I thought, leaving the room. “No doubt, she wants 
to say that she has noticed that I am a very clever 
young man.” I had not yet walked the fifteen paces 
when stout Séfya Ivdnovna, all out of breath, but walk- 
ing with rapid and light steps, caught up with me. 

« Merci, mon cher,” she said, “I am going there myself, 
so I shall order it.” 


XXIV. 
LOVE 


Sérya IvAnovna, as I found out later, was one of 
those rare unmarried women who are born for family 
happiness, but to whom fate has denied that happiness, 
and who, on account of this denial, suddenly decide to 
pour out on a few chosen people all that treasure of love 
which has so long been stored up, and has grown and 
strengthened in their heart for husband and children. 
And that treasure is in old maids of this description so 
inexhaustible that, though there may be many chosen 
ones, there is still left much love, which they pour out 
on all their neighbours, good and bad people, with whom 
they happen to come in contact in their lives. 

There are three kinds of love: 

1. Fair love, 

2. Self-sacrificing love, and 

3. Active love. 

I am not speaking of the love of a young man for 
a young woman, and vice versa,—I am afraid of these 
tendernesses. I have been so unhappy in my life that 
I never have seen in this kind of love one spark of truth, 
but only a lie in which sentimentality, conjugal relations, 
money, and the desire to tie or untie one’s hands so 
entangled the sentiment itself that it was impossible 
to make out anything. I am speaking of the love for 
man, which, according to the greater or smaller power 


of the soul, is concentrated on one, on a few, or is poured 
361 


352 YOUTH 


out on many, —of the love for a mother, father, brother, 
for children, for a companion, for a countryman, — of 
the love for man. 

Fair love consists in love for the beauty of the 
sentiment and its expression. For people who love 
thus, the loved object is dear only to the extent to which 
it evokes that agreeable sensation, the consciousness and 
expression of which they enjoy. People who love with 
a fair love, care very little for reciprocation, as being a 
circumstance that has no effect upon the beauty and 
pleasurableness of their sentiment. They often change 
the objects of their love, since their main aim consists 
only in having the pleasurable sensation of love con- 
tinually evoked. In order to sustain that pleasurable 
sensation, they speak in the choicest terms of their love, 
both to the object of that love, and to all who do not 
even have any interest in the matter. In our country 
people of a certain category, who love fairly, not only 
tell everybody of their love, but invariably tell it in 
French. It may seem strange and ridiculous, but I 
am convinced that there have been and still are many 
people of a certain society, particularly women, whose 
love for their friends, husbands, and children would be 
annihilated at once, if they were prohibited from speak- 
ing of it in French. 

Love of the second kind — self-sacrificing love — con- 
sists in the love for the process of self-sacrifice in behalf 
of the beloved object, without any regard to whether the 
beloved object is to gain or lose anything from these 
sacrifices. “There is no unpleasantness which I should 
be unwilling to inflict upon myself, in order to prove my 
loyalty to the whole world and to him, or to her.” That 
is the formula of the love of this kind. People who love 
in this manner never believe in reciprocation (for it is 
more meritorious to sacrifice myself for him who does 
not understand me), are always sickly, which also in- 


LOVE 353 


creases the deserts of sacrifice; they are generally con- 
stant, for it would be hard for them to lose the deserts 
of the sacrifices which they have made for their beloved 
object; they are always ready to die, in order to prove 
to him or her, all their attachment, but despise the petty, 
commonplace proofs of love, which do not demand any 
special impulse of self-sacrifice. It is a matter of indiffer- 
ence to them whether you have eaten or slept restfully, 
whether you are happy or well, and they will do nothing 
to afford you these comforts, if these are in their power ; 
but they are ever ready, if the opportunity offers itself, 
to face bullets, throw themselves into the water, or into 
the fire, and to go into consumption from love. Besides 
this, people who are inclined to a self-sacrificing love are 
always haughty in their love, exacting, jealous, suspicious, 
and, oddly enough, wish dangers to the objects of their 
love, in order to save them from misfortune and to con- 
sole them, and even vices, in order to mend them. 

You are living alone in the country with your wife, 
who loves you with self-devotion. You are well and 
calm, and you have some occupation which you enjoy, — 
your loving wife is so weak that she cannot busy herself 
with her house affairs, which are transferred into the 
hands of servants, nor with her children, who are in 
the hands of nurses, nor with any other business, which 
she likes, because she loves nothing but you. She is 
obviously ill, but, not wishing to grieve you, she does not 
tell you so; she obviously suffers ennui, but she is pre- 
pared to feel all her life ennui for your sake; she is 
obviously worrying her life away because you so assidu- 
ously busy yourself with your affairs (whatever they may 
be, the hunt, books, the estate, service), and she sees that 
these occupations will be your undoing,—still she is 
silent, and suffers. But you are ill, and your loving wife 
forgets her own illness and does not leave your bed, in 
spite of your entreaties not to worry needlessly ; and you 


354 YOUTH 


feel every second her sympathetic glance upon you, which 
seems to say, “ Well, I told you so, but I shall not leave 
you.” In the morning you are feeling a little better, and 
you go into another room. The room is not heated; the 
soup, which alone you are allowed to eat, has not been 
ordered from the cook; the medicine has not been sent 
for; but your loving wife, emaciated from her nocturnal 
vigils, is looking with the same expression of sympathy 
at you, walking on tiptoe, and in a whisper giving her 
unusual and indistinct orders to the servants. You want 
to read,— your loving wife tells you, with a sigh, that 
she knows you will not obey her and will be angry with 
her, but she is used to it,—that you had better not 
read; you want to walk up and down the room,— you 
had better not do that either; you want to talk to your 
friend who has come to see you,— you had better not. 
In the night you have a fever again, you want to forget 
yourself, but your loving wife, thin and wan, now and 
then sighing, is sitting opposite you in an armchair, in 
the dim light of a night-lamp, and with her faintest motion 
and her faintest voice provokes in you a feeling of anger 
and impatience. You have a servant with whom you 
have been living for twenty years, to whom you have 
become accustomed, who serves you with pleasure and 
with efficiency, because he has had a good sleep during 
the day and receives good wages, but she does not let 
him serve you. She does everything herself with her 
feeble, unaccustomed fingers, which you cannot help 
following with repressed anger, when these white fingers 
try in vain to uncork a bottle, snuff a candle, spill 
medicine, or cautiously touch you. If you are an im- 
patient and irascible man, and ask her to leave you, you 
will, with your unstrung, ailing ears, hear her behind 
the door, submissively sighing, and weeping, and whisper- 
ing some nonsense to your valet. Finally, if you have 
not died, your loving wife, who has not slept for twenty 


LOVE 355 


nights during your illness (which she keeps repeating 
to you), becomes ill, and feeble, and suffering, and is even 
less fit for any occupation, and, while you are in a normal 
state, expresses her love of self-devotion only by an 
humble ennui, which involuntarily is communicated to 
you and all your neighbours. 

The third kind, the active love, consists in striving to 
satisfy all wants, all wishes, caprices, and even vices of a 
beloved object. People who love in this manner, love for 
a lifetime, because the more they love, the more they find 
out their beloved object, and the easier it is for them to 
love, that is, to satisfy all the wishes of the loved one. 
Their love is seldom expressed in words, and if it is 
expressed, it is done, not in a self-satisfied and beautiful, 
but in a timid and shamefaced manner, because they are 
always afraid that they do not love sufficiently. These 
people love even the vices of their beloved being, because 
these vices make it possible for them to satisfy new 
wishes. They seek reciprocation, gladly deceiving them- 
selves, believe in it, and are happy when they obtain it; 
but they continue to love even in adverse circumstances, 
and not only wish their beloved object happiness, but 
continually strive by all means, moral and material, great 
and small, to afford it to them. 

It was this active love for her nephew, her niece, her 
sister, Lyubév Sergyéevna, and even me, because Dmitri 
loved me, which shone in the eyes, and in every move- 
ment of Sdéfya Ivdnovna. 

It was not until much later that I fully appreciated 
Sofya Ivdnovna, but even then the question occurred to 
me: Why has Dmitri, who endeavoured to understand 
love in an entirely different way from other young men, 
and who always had before his eyes dear, loving Sdfya 
Ivénovna, suddenly become passionately enamoured of 
incomprehensible Lyubdév Sergyéevna, and why does he 
merely admit good qualities in his aunt? Evidently the 


356 YOUTH 


proverb, “A man is not a prophet in his own country,” is 
just. One of two things is true: either there is really 
more of bad than good in every man, or a man is more 
susceptible of bad than of good. Lyubdév Sergyéevna he 
had known but for a short time, and the love of his aunt 
he had experienced ever since his birth. 


XXV. 
I AM BECOMING ACQUAINTED 


WHEN I returned to the gallery, they were not speak- 
ing of me, as I had surmised; Varenka was not reading, 
but, having put aside her book, was warmly discussing 
something with Dmitri, who was walking to and fro, 
rearranging his necktie with his neck, and blinking. The 
subject of their discussion was ostensibly Ivan Yaékovlevich 
and superstition; but the discussion was too heated for 
the implied meaning to be anything else than one nearer 
to the whole family. The princess and Lyubdv Sergyéevna 
sat silent, listening to every word, apparently desiring to 
take part in the discussion, but restraining themselves and 
letting Vdrenka speak for the one, and Dmitri for the 
other. When I entered, Vdérenka looked at me with an 
expression of such indifference that it was evident she 
was much in earnest about the discussion, and did not 
care whether I heard what she was saying, or not. The 
same expression was on the face of the princess, who was 
apparently on Varenka’s side. Dmitri began to discuss 
more heatedly in my presence, and Lyubdv Sergyéevna 
seemed to be frightened at my appearance and said, with- 
out turning to any one in particular: “Old people say 
rightly, ‘ si yewnesse savart, si vieillesse pouvatt.’” 

But this proverb did not stop the dispute, and only 
made me think that the side of Lyubov and of my friend 
was in the wrong. Although I felt awkward at being 


present at a small family discussion, it was pleasant to see 
857 


3958 YOUTH 


the real relations of this household, which were brought 
out by the discussion, and to feel that my presence did 
not keep them from expressing their views. 

How often it happens that you see a family for years 
under one and the same false shroud of decency, and that 
the real relations of its members remain a mystery for 
you! I have even noticed that the more impenetrable, 
and, therefore, more beautiful, that shroud is, the coarser 
are the actual, hidden relations. But let sometime, quite 
unexpectedly, a seemingly insignificant question about 
some blonde or some visit, or the husband’s horses, arise 
in this family circle, —and the quarrel becomes without 
any apparent cause ever more embittered, things grow too 
crowded under the shroud for settlement, and suddenly, 
to the terror of the persons quarrelling themselves, and to 
the amazement of those present, all the real coarse rela- 
tions come to the surface, the shroud, which no longer 
conceals anything, flaunts between the contending parties 
and only reminds you of how long you have been deceived. 
Frequently it is not so painful to strike the head against 
a crossbeam as to touch lightly a sore place. There is 
just such a painful sore place in nearly every family. 
In the family of the Nekhlytidovs it was Dmitri’s odd 
love for Lyubdév Sergyéevna, which provoked in his sister 
and mother, if not a feeling of jealousy, at least an 
offended family feeling. For this reason the discussion 
about Iv4n Ydkovlevich and superstition had such a 
serious meaning for all. 

“You always try to see in that which everybody ridi- 
cules and everybody despises,” spoke Varenka in her 
melodious voice, pronouncing every letter distinctly, “ yes, 
you always try to find something unusually good in it.” 

“In the first place, only the most frivolous person can 
speak of despising such a remarkable man as Ivan Yakov- 
levich,” answered Dmitri, convulsively jerking his head 
in a direction away from his sister, “and, in the second 


I AM BECOMING ACQUAINTED 359 


place, you, on the contrary, try on purpose not to see the 
good which is standing before your eyes.” 

Turning to us, Sédfya Ivanovna looked several times 
now at her nephew, now at her niece, and now at me, 
and two or three times she opened her mouth and drew a 
deep sigh, as though saying something mentally. 

“ Varya, please hurry up and read,” she said, handing 
her the book and gently patting her hand, “I am anxious 
to learn whether he found her.” (As far as I remember 
there was nothing in the novel about anybody finding 
anybody.) “And you, Mitya, had better wrap up your 
cheek, my dear, for it is blowing here, and you will get a 
toothache again,” she said to her nephew, in spite of the 
dissatisfied glance which he cast upon her, presumably 
for having broken the logical thread of his proofs. The 
reading was continued. 

This small quarrel did not in the least affect the 
family peace and the sensible harmony of that feminine 
citcle: 

That circle, to which Princess Marya Ivdnovna obvi- 
ously gave direction and character, had for me the entirely 
new and attractive character of a certain logicalness and, 
at the same time, simplicity and refinement. This char- 
acter was expressed for me in the beauty, cleanliness, and 
solidity of things, — the bell, the binding of the book, the 
chair, the table, — and in the erect, corseted attitude of 
the princess, and in the display of the locks of gray hair, 
and in the habit of calling me at the first meeting Nico- 
las and he, in their occupations, in the reading and sewing, 
and in the extraordinary whiteness of their feminine 
hands. (They all had a common family feature in their 
hands, consisting in the flesh colour of the outer side of 
their palms, which, by a sharp, straight line, was separated 
from the extraordinary whiteness of the back of the hand.) 
But, above all this, character was expressed in the way 
all three spoke excellent Russian and French, distinctly 


360 YOUTH 


enunciating every letter, and with pedantic exactness 
finishing every word and sentence; all this, and especially 
the fact that they treated me in their company simply 
and seriously, like a grown man, telling me their own 
opinions and listening to mine,—I was so little used 
to it that, in spite of my shining buttons and blue facings, 
I was all the time afraid that they would tell me, “ Do 
you really think we are speaking to you in earnest ? Go to 
your lessons,” — all this had the effect of relieving me 
entirely of timidity. I rose from my chair, changed 
seats, and boldly spoke to everybody, except Varenka, 
with whom, it seemed to me, it was not proper, but some- 
how prohibited, to speak the first time. 

During the reading, while I listened to her pleasant, 
ringing voice, and looked, now at her, and now upon the 
sand path of the flower-garden, on which round, darkling 
drops of rain were formed; and upon the linden-trees, on 
the leaves of which continued to patter rare drops of rain 
from the pale, bluishy translucent rim of the cloud which 
was just passing over us, and then again upon her; and 
upon the last blood-red rays of the setting sun, which 
illuminated the thick old birches wet with the rain, and 
again upon Vaérenka, —I reflected that she was not at all 
ill-looking, as I had thought in the beginning. 

« What a pity I am already in love,” I thought, “ and 
that Varenka is not Sdénichka! How good it would be 
suddenly to become a member of this family: I should 
have at once a mother, an aunt, and a wife.” All the 
time I was thinking this, I kept looking at Varenka while 
she was reading, and I imagined I was magnetizing her, 
and that she would have to look at me. Vdarenka raised 
her head from the book, looked at me and, meeting my 
glance, turned away. 

“ T see the rain has not stopped,” she said. 

And, suddenly, I experienced a strange feeling: I re- 
called that precisely what was happening then was a 


I AM BECOMING ACQUAINTED 361 


repetition of something that had happened with me be- 
fore; that just such a rain had pattered then, and the sun 
went down behind the birches, and I looked at her, and 
she read, and I magnetized her, and she looked around, 
and I recalled that it had happened before. 

“Is it possible it is she? Is it really beginning?” 
But I quickly decided that it was not she, and that it was 
not beginning yet. “In the first place, she is not good- 
looking,” I thought, “and she is just a young lady, with 
whom I became acquainted in the commonest manner, 
but she will be uncommon, and her I shall meet in some 
uncommon place; and then, I like this family so much 
because I have not seen anything as yet,” I reflected, 
“and there are, no doubt, always such, and I shall meet 
many of them in my life.” 


XXVI. 
I SHOW MYSELF FROM MY MOST ADVANTAGEOUS SIDE 


AT tea the reading stopped, and the ladies engaged in a 
conversation about persons and affairs unknown to me. 
This they did, as I thought, in order to make me feel, in 
spite of the gracious reception, the difference which ex- 
isted between them and me, on account of the disparity 
of years and social standing. When the conversation be- 
came general, so that I could take part in it, I redeemed 
my previous silence by trying to display my extraordinary 
mind and originality, which, as I thought, I owed it to 
my uniform todo. When the conversation turned to sum- 
mer residences, I at once told them that Prince Ivdn 
Ivd4novich had a summer residence near Moscow; that 
people had come from London and Paris to look at it; 
that it was surrounded by a fence which had cost three 
hundred and eighty thousand; and that Ivdn Ivanovich 
was a very near relative of mine; and that I had dined 
with him to-day, and he had invited me by all means to 
come and stay with him the whole summer in his country 
house, but that I had refused because I knew that resi- 
dence well, having been there several times; and that all 
those fences and bridges did not interest me in the least, 
because I could not bear luxury, particularly in the coun- 
try ; and that I liked the country to be entirely country- 
like. Having told this terrible, complicated lie, I became 
confused, and blushed, so that every one must have 


noticed that I was lying. Vdrenka, who was just then 
362 


MY MOST ADVANTAGEOUS SIDE 36G 


passing a cup of tea to me, and Séfya Iva4novna, who was 
looking at me all the time I spoke, turned their faces 
aside and conversed about something else with an expres- 
sion which I later met frequently in good people, when a 
very young man began to tell obvious lies, and which 
meant: “ We know that he is lying, and why is the poor 
fellow doing so ?” 

I said that Prince Iv4n Ivdénovich had a summer resi- 
dence, because I could not find a better excuse for men- 
tioning my relationship with Prince Ivén Ivanovich, and 
my having dined with him that day. But why did I tell 
about the fence that cost three hundred and eighty thou- 
sand, and say that I had frequently been there, when I 
had not been there once, nor ever could have been, for 
Prince Ivan Ivanovich lived only in Moscow and in 
Naples, which was quite well known to the Nekhlyt- 
dovs, — why did I tell all that? Iam absolutely unable 
to account for it. Neither in my childhood, nor in my 
boyhood, nor later in my riper years, have I ever noticed 
in myself the vice of lying: on the contrary, I was more 
inclined to be unduly truthful and frank ; but in that first 
period of my youth I was frequently attacked by the 
strange desire to tell the most desperate les, without 
any apparent cause whatsoever. I say “desperate lies,” 
because I led in matters in which it was very easy to 
catch me. It seems to me that the chief cause of this 
strange tendency lay in the vain desire to show myself as 
a different man from what I was, united with the hope, 
unrealizable in life, of lying without being detected. 

As the rain had passed, and the weather during the 
evening glow was calm and clear, the princess proposed 
after tea that we take a stroll through the lower garden 
and inspect her favourite spot. Following my rule always 
to be original, and thinking that such clever people as the 
princess and I ought to stand above banal civility, I 
answered that I could not bear strolling around without 


364 YOUTH 


any aim, and if I did go out for pleasure I preferred to go 
all alone. I did not stop to consider that what I said was 
mere rudeness; it appeared to me at that time, that as 
there was nothing more disgraceful than trite compliments, 
so there was nothing more agreeable and original than a 
certain impolite frankness. However satisfied I was with 
my answer, I nevertheless went out with all the company. 

The favourite spot of the princess was quite a distance 
below, in the very depth of the garden, on a small bridge 
which was thrown over a narrow strip of swamp. The 
view was very limited, but melancholy and graceful. We 
are so accustomed to mistake art for nature, that fre- 
quently the phenomena of nature which we have never 
met in art appear unnatural to us, as though nature were 
factitious, and, vice versa, those phenomena which have 
been too frequently repeated in art appear hackneyed, 
while some views which are too much permeated by one 
idea and sentiment, such as we meet in reality, seem arti- 
ficial. The view from the favourite spot of the princess 
was of that kind. It was formed by a small shrub-fringed 
pond, just behind which rose a steep hill, all overgrown 
with immense, old trees and bushes, which frequently 
intermingled their variegated verdure, and by an ancient 
birch at the foot of the hill, which, overhanging the pond 
and extending its thick roots in its moist bank, leaned 
with its top against a tall, stately aspen and stretched its 
curly branches above the smooth surface of the pond, 
which reflected all those pendent branches and the sur- 
rounding verdure. 

‘How charming!” said the princess, shaking her head 
and speaking to nobody in particular. 

“ Yes, charming, but it seems to me it awfully resembles 
painted scenery,” said I, trying to prove that I held my 
own opinion in everything. 

The princess continued to enjoy the view, as though she 
had not heard my remark, and turning to her sister and 


MY MOST ADVANTAGEOUS SIDE 365 


to Lyubdv Sergyéevna, pointed out the part which she 
particularly liked, —a crooked overhanging branch and 
its reflection. Sdfya Iv4novna said that it was beautiful, 
and that her sister passed several hours at a time there ; 
but it was evident she said all that to please the princess. 
I have noticed that persons who are gifted with the ability 
to love rarely are impressed by beauties of nature. Lyu- 
bév Sergyéevna was also enthusiastic; she asked, among 
other things, “ What keeps up the birch-tree? Will it 
stand a long time yet?” and continually glanced at her 
Suzette, which wagged its shaggy tail, and with its crooked 
little legs ran up and down the bridge, with an anxious 
expression, as though it were out of doors for the first time 
in its life. Dmitri entered into a very logical discussion 
with his mother, trying to prove that no view could be 
beautiful whose horizon was limited. Vdérenka did not 
say anything. When I looked round at her she, standing 
in profile, was leaning against the balustrade of the 
bridge, and gazing into the distance. Something obvi- 
ously attracted and interested her very much, for she was 
apparently lost in contemplation and thought neither of 
herself, nor of being observed. In the expression of her 
large eyes was so much concentrated attention and calm, 
clear thought, and in her attitude so much unconstraint 
and, in spite of her low stature, even majesty, that I 
seemed to be struck again by the recollection of her, and 
I again asked myself whether it was not beginning. And 
again I answered myself that I was in love with Sénichka, 
and that Varenka was merely a young lady, the sister of 
my friend. But she pleased me at that moment, and in 
consequence, I was seized by an undefinable desire to do 
or tell her some little unpleasantness. 

“Do you know what, Dmitri?” I said to my friend, 
walking up closer to Varenka, so that she might hear what 
I was saying, “I find that even without the mosquitoes 
there would not be anything beautiful here, but now,” I 


366 YOUTH 


added, slapping my forehead and really killing a mosquito, 
“it is no good at all.” 

“You do not seem to love Nature,” said Vdrenka to me, 
without turning her head. 

“I find that it is a barren, useless occupation,” I 
answered, quite satisfied at having said an unpleasant 
thing to her, and an original one at that. Vdrenka barely 
raised her brows for a moment, with an expression of pity, 
and just as calmly continued to gaze ahead of her. 

I was vexed at her, and yet, the gray, faded railing of 
the bridge against which she leaned, the reflection of the 
pendent branch of the overhanging birch in the dusky 
pond, striving to unite with the drooping branches above, 
the swampy odour, the feeling of a crushed mosquito on 
my forehead, and her attentive gaze and majestic attitude 
frequently afterward appeared suddenly in my imagina- 
tion. 


XXVIL 
DMITRI 


WHEN we returned home after the stroll, Varenka did 
not wish to sing, as she was wont to do of an evening, 
and I was so conceited as to attribute the cause of it to 
myself, imagining that it was due to what I had told her 
on the bridge. The Nekhlytidovs did not eat supper, and 
dispersed early, and on that day, when, as Sdfya Ivanovna 
had predicted, Dmitri’s teeth really began to ache, we 
went up to his room earlier than usual. As I supposed 
that I had accomplished all that my blue collar and my 
buttons demanded, and that all were pleased with me, I 
was in a very agreeable and self-satisfied frame of mind; 
Dmitri, on the contrary, was taciturn and gloomy, on 
account of the quarrel and the toothache. He sat down 
at the table, took out his note-books, — a diary and a copy- 
book where he was in the habit of writing down every 
evening his future and past occupations, — and, continu- 
ally frowning and touching his cheek with his hand, was 
busy writing for a long time. 

“Oh, leave me alone!” he cried at the chambermaid 
who was sent by Sdfya Ivdnovna to ask him how his 
toothache was, and whether he did not want a hot com- 
press. After telling me that my bed would soon be made 
up, and that he would be back shortly, he went to Lyu-. 
bév Sergyéevna. 

“What a pity Varenka is not pretty and, in general, 

367 


368 YOUTH 


not Sdnichka,” I meditated, when I was left alone in the 
room. “How nice it would be after leaving the uni- 
versity to come here and propose to her. I would say: 
‘Princess, I am not young any more; I cannot love pas- 
sionately, but I will love you for ever, like a dear sister.’ 
‘I already respect you,’ I would say to her mother, ‘and 
you, Sdfya Ivdnovna, believe me, I esteem highly.’ ‘So 
tell me straight out: will you be my wife?’ ‘Yes.’ And 
she will give me her hand, and I shall press it, and shall 
say: ‘My love is not in words, but deeds.’ How would 
it be,” it occurred to me, “if Dmitri suddenly fell in love 
with Lytibochka, — for Lytibochka is already in love with 
him, — and wanted to marry her? Then one of us would 
not be allowed to marry. That would be well: Here is 
what I would do. I would notice it at once, and so I 
would come to Dmitri, without saying anything to any- 
body else, and would say to him: ‘ My friend, it would 
be in vain for us to conceal it from each other. You 
know that my love for your sister will end only with my 
life; but I know all; you have deprived me of my best 
hope; you have made me unhappy. Do you know how 
Nikoldy Irténev requites the unhappiness of all his life? 
Here is my sister, and I would give him the hand of 
Lytibochka. He would say: ‘ No, not for anything in the 
world!’ and I would say: ‘Prince Nekhlytidov, you are 
trying in vain to be more magnanimous than Nikoldy 
Irténev! There is not in the whole world a more mag- 
nanimous man than he.” And I would bow, and leave. 
Dmitri and Lytbochka would run out after me, in 
tears, and implore me to accept their sacrifice. And I 
might consent, and even be very happy, if only I were in 
love with Vdrenka—” These dreams were so pleasant 
that I was dying to communicate them to niy friend, but, 
in spite of our vow of mutual frankness, I felt, for some 
reason or other, that there was no physical possibility of 
telling it. 


DMITRI 369 


Dmitri returned from Lyubdv Sergyéevna with some 
drops on his teeth, which she had given him. He was 
suffering more than before and, consequently, was more 
gloomy still. My bed had not yet been made, and a 
boy, Dmitri’s servant, came to ask him where I was to 
sleep. 

“Go to the devil!” called out Dmitri, stamping his 
foot. “WVdska! Vdska! Vdska!” he cried, the moment 
the boy had left, raising his voice more and more. 
“«Vaska, make my bed on the floor!” 

“No, I had better lie on the floor,” I said. 

« Well, all right, make the bed anywhere,” Dmitri con- 
tinued in the same angry voice. “ Vaska, why are you not 
making the bed ?” 

But Vaska evidently did not understand what he was 
asked to do, and stood motionless. 

“ Well, what is the matter with you? Make the bed! 
Make the bed! Vaska! Vaska!” Dmitri cried, suddenly 
bursting into a fury. 

But Vaska did not understand him, being all perplexed, 
and did not budge. 

“Have you sworn to kill—to drive me mad?” And 
Dmitri jumped from his chair, ran up to the boy, and with 
all his might struck his fist against the head of Vaska, 
who ran headlong out of the room. Stopping at the door, 
Dmitri turned round to me, and the expression of madness 
and cruelty which had been on his face but a second ago, 
gave way to such a meek, shamefaced, and loving, childish 
expression that I was sorry for him, and, however much 
I wanted to turn away from him, I was unable to do so. 
He did not say anything to me, but silently paced the 
room for a long time, now and then casting a glance at 
me, with the same expression of entreaty, then took out 
his note-book, wrote something in it, took off his coat, 
carefully put it away, walked into the corner where the 
image was hanging, crossed his large white hands over 


370 YOUTH 


his breast, and began to pray. He prayed so long that 
Vaska had time to bring the mattress and make a bed on 
the floor, as I directed him in a whisper. I undressed 
myself and lay down on the bed on the floor, but Dmitri 
was still praying. As I looked at Dmitri’s slightly 
stooping shoulders and at the soles of his shoes, which 
stood out before me in all humility, every time he was 
making low obeisances, I loved Dmitri even more than 
before, and I considered whether or not I had better tell 
him what I had been dreaming about our sisters. When 
Dmitri finished his prayer, he lay down on the bed and, 
leaning on his arm, for a long time looked silently at me, 
with a kind and shamefaced expression. It was a hard 
thing for him to do so, but he seemingly was punishing 
himself. I smiled, looking at him. He smiled, too. 

“Why do you not tell me,” he said, “ that I have acted 
contemptibly ? That is what you have been thinking 
about.” 

« Yes,” I answered (although I had been thinking of 
something else, it seemed to me that I had really been 
thinking of it), “yes, it was very bad. I had never 
expected such a thing from thee,” I said, experiencing 
that moment a special pleasure in speaking “thou” to 
him. “Well, how are-thy teeth ?” I added. 

“That is all over. Ah, Nikélenka, my friend!” said 
Dmitri, so gently that I thought there were tears in his 
eyes, “I know and feel how bad Iam, and God sees how 
I wish and ask Him to make me better; but what am 
I to do if I have such an unfortunate, despicable charac- 
ter? What am I todo? I try to restrain and to re- 
form myself, but that cannot be done at once, nor alone. 
It is necessary that some one should support and aid me. 
Now, Lyubév Sergyéevna understands me and has helped 
me much. I know, by my diary, that I have greatly 
improved in the course of the year. Ah, Nikdlenka, my 
darling!” he continued, after this confession, with unusual 


DMITRI Bt 


tenderness, and in a calmer voice, “how much the influ- 
ence of a woman like her means! O Lord, how good it 
will be when I am independent, with such a companion as 
she! Iam a different man, in her presence.” 

Thereupon Dmitri began to evolve all his plans of 
marriage, country life, and uninterrupted labour over 
himself. 

“TJ shall be living in the country, you will come to see 
me, and, maybe, you will be married to Sdnichka,” he 
said. “Our children will play together. All this seems 
ridiculous and foolish, and yet it may happen.” 

“Why not? It is very likely,” I said, smiling and 
thinking all the while that it would be better still if I 
married his sister. 

“Do you know what I will tell you?” he said to me, 
after a short silence. “You only imagine that you are in 
love with Sdnichka, but, as I see, that is all nonsense, 
and you do not know yet what the real feeling is like.” 

I did not retort, because I almost agreed with him. We 
were silent for a moment. 

«You have noticed that I was out of sorts to-day and 
had a bad quarrel with Varya. I felt ashamed later on, 
particularly because it happened in your presence. Al- 
though she does not think the right way about many 
matters, she is an excellent girl, and very good, as you 
will find her to be upon closer acquaintance.” 

His transition in the conversation from the subject of 
my not being in love to the praise of his sister gave me 
great joy and caused me to blush; still, I did not say 
anything to him about his sister, and we went on to speak 
of something else. 

Thus we chatted to the second cockcrow, and the pale 
dawn peeped through the window when Dmitri went over 
to his bed and extinguished the candle. 

“ Well, now to sleep,” he said. 

“Yes,” I answered, “only one word more.” 


“ai 4 YOUTH 


“Weill. 

“Ts it nice to live in the world?” said I. 

“Tt is nice to live in the world,” he answered, in such a 
voice that it seemed I could see in the darkness the ex- 
pression of his mirthful, gentle eyes and childlike smile. 


XXVIII. 
IN THE COUNTRY 


THE next day Volddya and I left for the country on 
post-horses. On the road I passed in review all the dif- 
ferent Moscow reminiscences, and also thought of Sé- 
nichka Valdékhin, but not before evening, when we had five 
stations behind us. “Now, this is strange,” I thought; 
“JT am in love, and have entirely forgotten it. I must 
think of her.” And I began to think of her, as one 
thinks while travelling, not connectedly, but vividly ; and 
the upshot of my deliberations was that when I arrived 
in the country, I considered it necessary for two days to 
appear melancholy and pensive before the home people, 
and in particular before Katenka, whom I regarded as a 
great connoisseur in matters of this kind, and to whom I 
hinted a bit about the condition my heart was in. Yet 
in spite of all my attempts at feigning before myself and 
others, in spite of all the intentional adoption of all the 
signs which I had observed in others who were in love, I 
recalled only for two days, and that not continuously, 
but more especially in the evenings, that I was in love, 
and finally, as soon as I entered into the new rut of 
country life and occupations, I completely forgot my love 
for Sdénichka. 

We arrived at Petrévskoe in the night, and I was so 
fast asleep that I saw neither the house, nor the birch 
avenue, nor any of the family, who had all gone to their 


rooms, and were long asleep. Stooping old Féka, bare- 
373 


374 YOUTH 


foot, in some kind of a woman’s wadded jacket, with a 
candle in his hand, unlatched the door for us. When he 
saw us, he shook with joy, kissed us repeatedly on the 
shoulder, hastily removed his felt bed, and began to 
dress himself. I passed the front hall and the staircase 
while still half asleep, but in the antechamber the door- 
lock, the latch, the warped floor, the clothes-chest, the old 
candlestick stained as ever by tallow drops, the shadows 
from the crooked, cold, just lighted wick of the tallow 
dip, the ever dusty, unremoved double windows, beyond 
which, I remembered, grew a rowan-tree, — all these were 
so familiar, so full of memories, so in agreement with each 
other, as if united by one thought, — that I suddenly felt 
the caresses of the dear old house upon me. The ques- 
tion involuntarily presented itself to me: How could the 
house and I so long have been without each other? and, 
hastening somewhere, I ran to see whether all the rooms 
were still the same. Everything was the same, only 
everything was smaller and lower, and I had grown taller, 
heavier, and coarser, but such as I was, the house joyfully 
received me in its embrace, and with every deal, every 
window, every step of the staircase, every sound, awakened 
in me a host of images, feelings, and incidents of an irre- 
trievable, happy past. We came to the sleeping-room of 
our childhood: all the childish terrors again nestled in 
the dusk of the corners and doors ; we passed the drawing- 
room —the same quiet, tender love of our mother was 
shed over all the objects which stood there; we passed 
the parlour — the noisy, careless, childish mirth, it seemed, 
had stopped in this room, and was only waiting to be 
revived. In the sofa-room, whither Féka took us, and 
where he made beds for us, everything,— the mirror, 
the screen, the old wooden image, every unevenness of 
the wall with its white wall-paper,— everything told 
of suffering and of death, and of that which will never 
be again. 


or 


IN THE COUNTRY 378 


We lay down, and Féka left us, wishing us a good 
night. 

«Ts it in this room mamma died ?” said Volddya. 

I did not answer him, but pretended to be asleep. If 
I had said anything I should have burst into tears. 
When I awoke the next morning, I found papa, undressed, 
in slippers and dressing-gown, with a cigar in his mouth, 
sitting on Voldédya’s bed, and speaking and laughing with 
him. He jumped up from the bed with a merry shrug of 
his shoulders, walked up to me and, slapping my back 
with his large hand, placed his cheek before me and 
pressed it to my lips. 

“Well, that is good, glad of it, diplomat,” he said 
with his particular, mirthful kindness, gazing at me with 
his small shining eyes. “ Volédya says that you have 
passed a good examination, like a fine fellow, — that is 
good. Whenever you make up your mind not to fool 
away your time, you are a nice chap, too. I am glad, 
my dear. Now we shall have a good time here, and in 
the winter we shall, perhaps, settle in St. Petersburg. 
What a pity the hunting season is past, or I should have 
given you the pleasure of that sport; well, can you hunt 
with a gun, Voldemar? ‘There is a lot of game, and I 
may go out with you some day. In the winter, God 
willing, we shall settle in St. Petersburg, and you will 
meet people and form ties,— you are now my big lads. 
I just told Véldemar, you are now on the road, my work 
is done, you may go yourselves, and if you wish to take 
my advice, I shall give it to you. I am no longer your 
nurse, but your friend; at least, I want to be your friend 
and companion and adviser, wherever I can, and nothing 
else. How is that according to your philosophy, Koké, 
eh? Good or bad? Eh?” 

I, naturally, told him that it was good, and really 
found it so. Papa had that day an especially attractive, 
inirthful, and happy expression ; these new relations with 


376 YOUTH 


me, as with an equal, a companion, made me love him 
even more, 

“Well, tell me, did you call on all your relatives ? 
At the fvins? Did you see the old man? What did 
he say to you?” he continued to ask. “Were you at 
the home of Prince Ivan Ivanovich ?” 

We conversed so long without getting dressed that the 
sun was beginning to pass away from the windows of 
the sofa-room, and Yakov (who was just as old, and just 
in the same way twirled his fingers behind his back) 
came into our room and announced to papa that the 
carriage was ready. 

« Whither are you going?” I asked papa. 

“Oh, I forgot,” said papa, with a jerk of annoyance, 
and coughing. “I have promised to call on the Epifénovs 
to-day. You remember Miss Epifdnov, la belle Flamande ? 
She used to visit your mamma. They are excellent 
people.” Papa left the room, jerking his shoulder, as 
I thought, bashfully. 

Lytibochka had come up several times to the door, 
during our chat, and asked, “ May I come in?” but papa 
every time called out to her through the door, “ By no 
means, for we are not yet dressed.” 

“What of it? I have seen you often in your dressing- 
gown.” 

“You cannot see your brothers without their ‘inex- 
pressibles,”” he cried to her. “Now, they will both 
knock at the door for you, — will that do you? Knock. 
It is even indecent for them to speak to you, while they 
are in such negligée.” 

“ Oh, how intolerable you are! At least come as soon 
as possible to the drawing-room, for Mimi wants to see 
you,” Lytibochka cried through the door. 

As soon as papa left us, I hurriedly dressed myself in 
the student coat, and went to the drawing-room. Voldédya, 
on the contrary, was in no haste, and stayed awhile up- 


IN THE COUNTRY Sit 


stairs, talking to Ydkov about the places where snipes 
and woodcocks were abundant. As I have said before, 
he was afraid of nothing as much as of what he called 
“‘tendernesses,” with brother, papa, or sister, and, avoid- 
ing every expression of sentiment, fell into the other 
extreme, — coldness, which frequently gave painful offence 
to people who did not understand its causes. In the 
antechamber I stumbled on papa, who with short, rapid 
steps was hastening to take his seat in the carriage. He 
was dressed in his new, fashionable Moscow coat, and 
was scented with perfume. When he saw me, he merrily 
nodded to me, as if to say, “ You see, it is fine!” and 
again I was struck by the happy expression on his face, 
which I had noticed in the morning. 

The drawing-room was the same bright, high room, with 
the yellow English grand piano and large open windows, 
through which looked merrily the green trees and the 
reddish brown paths of the garden. After kissing Mimi 
and Lytibochka, I walked up to Katenka, but it suddenly 
occurred to me that it was no longer proper to kiss her, 
and I stopped, in silence, and blushing. Kdatenka was 
not in the least confused, gave me her white little hand, 
and congratulated me on having entered the university. 
When Voldédya came to the drawing-room, the same thing 
happened to him, at his meeting with Kdtenka. Indeed, 
it was hard to decide, after we had grown up together, 
and seen each other every day, how we were to meet 
now, after our first separation. Kdtenka blushed more 
than we. Volédya was not in the least abashed, but 
bowed to her lightly, and went over to Lytibochka, with 
whom he spoke but little, and not at all seriously, and 
then they went out for a stroll. 


XXIX. 
OUR RELATIONS WITH THE GIRLS 


Vo épya held very strange views about the girls. He 
could be interested by such questions as whether they 
had had enough to eat, whether they had slept well, 
whether they were decently dressed, whether they did 
not make mistakes in speaking French, for which he 
would have to be ashamed before strangers, — but he did 
not admit the thought that they could think or feel any- 
thing human, and still less did he admit the possibility 
of discussing anything with them. Whenever they had 
occasion to turn to him with some serious question 
(which, however, they tried to avoid), when they asked 
his opinion about some novel, or about his occupations 
at the university, he made faces at them and walked 
away in silence, or answered them in a contorted French 
sentence, “ Comme ci tri jolt,’ and so forth, or, looking 
serious and purposely stupid, he told them a word that 
had no meaning whatsoever, and no reference to the 
question, and suddenly pronounced, with dull eyes, such 
words as “roll” or “gone,” or “cabbage,” or something 
of the kind. If I repeated to him what Lytibochka and 
Katenka had said to me, he invariably answered : 

“'H’m, so you still discuss with them? No, you, I see, 
are no good yet.” 

One would have to hear and see him in order to 
appreciate the deep, invariable contempt which was ex- 
pressed in that phrase. Volddya had now been a grown 

378 


OUR RELATIONS WITH THE GIRLS 379 


man for two years, and fell continually in love with all the 
pretty women whom he met; but, although he every day 
met Katenka, who had been wearing long dresses for two 
years, and was all the time getting prettier, the possibility 
of falling in love with her had never occurred to him. 
Whether it originated in the fact that the prosaic remi- 
niscences of childhood, the ruler, the sheet, the caprices, 
were still too fresh in his memory, or in the disgust 
which very young people feel for everything domestic, 
or in the universal human weakness, when meeting upon 
the first path something good and beautiful, to pass by it, 
saying to oneself: “ Oh, I shall meet many more of this 
kind in my life,” — Volédya continued to look upon 
Kéatenka as not a woman. 

Volédya suffered much ennui during that summer. 
This ennui was caused by the contempt in which he held 
us, and which he did not attempt to conceal. The con- 
stant expression of his face said, “ Pshaw, what ennui, 
and nobody to talk to!” He would go out in the morn- 
ing with his gun to hunt, or he would stay undressed 
until dinner in his room, reading a book. If papa was 
not at home, he even came to dinner with his book, con- 
tinuing to read it, and not exchanging a word with any 
of us, which made us all feel guilty before him. In the 
evening he lay down with his feet on a sofa in the draw- 
ing-room, slept leaning on his arm, or with a most serious 
countenance told some most terrible, often quite improper, 
nonsense, which made Mimi furious and brought out red 
spots on her face, but caused us to die with laughter; but 
he never condescended to speak seriously with any one 
of our family, except with papa and occasionally with me. 
I quite involuntarily imitated my brother’s view in regard 
to the girls, although I was not at all so afraid of tender- 
nesses as he, and my contempt for the girls was far 
from being as strong anddeep. From sheer ennui I tried 
that summer several times to get on a closer footing with 


380 YOUTH 


Lytibochka and Katenka and to converse with them, but 
I found in them every time such an inability to think 
logically, and such ignorance of the simplest, commonest 
things, as what money was, what people studied at the 
university, what war was, and so on, and such an indiffer- 
ence to the explanations of these things, that my attempts 
only confirmed me in my unfavourable opinion of them. 

I remember how one evening Lytibochka repeated for 
the hundredth time some dreadfully tiresome passage on 
the piano, while Volédya lay dozing on the sofa in the 
drawing-room, and now and then, with a certain malicious 
irony, not speaking to anybody in particular, mumbled: 
“She does bang !— Musician !— Bitkhoven!” (he pro- 
nounced this word with especial irony), “let her go— 
once more —that’s it,” and so on. Kéatenka and I re- 
mained at the tea-table, and, I do not remember how, 
Katenka led up to her favourite subject— love. I was 
in a mood to philosophize, and began superciliously to 
define love as a desire to obtain in another what one did 
not possess in himself, and so forth. Kdatenka answered 
me that, on the contrary, it was not love when a girl 
thought of marrying a rich man, and that possessions 
were, in her opinion, a very unimportant matter, and that 
genuine love was only that which could last through 
separation (I knew at once she referred to her love for 
Dubkév). Volddya, who, no doubt, had heard our con- 
versation, suddenly raised himself on his elbow and 
interrogatively called out, “ Kaétenka — the Russians ?” 

“ His eternal nonsense!” said Katenka. 

“ Into the pepperbox ?” continued Voldédya, accentuating 
every vowel. I could not help thinking that Volddya 
was quite right. 

Independently of the common, more or less developed, 
faculties of the human mind, of sentiment, and artistic 
feeling, there exists a private faculty, more or less devel- 
oped in various circles of society, and especially in families, 


OUR RELATIONS WITH THE GIRLS 381 


which I call “ understanding.” The essence of this faculty 
consists in a conventional feeling of measure, and in a 
conventional one-sided view of things. Two people of 
the same circle, or of the same family, who possess this 
faculty, permit the expression of sentiment to a certain 
point, after which they both see nothing but empty 
phrases; they see at exactly the same moment where 
praise ends and irony begins, where enthusiasm ends and 
hypocrisy begins, which to people with different under- 
standing may appear quite otherwise. People with the 
same understanding are impressed by every object, more 
especially by its ridiculous, or beautiful, or nasty side. 
To facilitate this equal understanding among the members 
of the same circle or family, there establishes itself a 
conventional language, conventional expressions, and even 
words, which define those shades of meaning that do not 
exist for others. In our family, this understanding was 
highly developed between papa and us brothers. Dubkdév 
also fell in with our circle and “ understood,” but Dmitri, 
who otherwise was much more clever than he, was dull 
in this. With no one did I carry this faculty to such 
perfection as with Volddya, with whom I had been brought 
up under identical conditions. Papa was falling behind 
us, and much which was to us as clear as two times 
two is four, was incomprehensible to him. For example, 
between Volddya and me were established, God knows 
why, the following words with their corresponding mean- 
ings: “raisins” meant a vain desire to show that I have 
money ; “pinecone” (whereat it was necessary to put the 
fingers together and distinctly to pronounce the conso- 
nants) signified something fresh, healthy, elegant, but not 
foppish ; a noun used in the plural signified an unjust 
prejudice in favour of that object, and so forth. However, 
the meaning depended more on the expression of the face, 
and on the subject under discussion, so that no matter 
what new word one used to express a new shade, the 


382 YOUTH 


other immediately understood it by the mere reference. 
The girls did not have our understanding, and that was 
the chief cause of our moral disunion, and of the contempt 
which we felt for them. 

It may be they had their own “understanding,” but it 
so differed from ours, that where we saw only twaddle, 
they saw feeling, and our irony appeared as truth to them. 
At that time I did not understand that they were not to 
blame for it, and that this absence of understanding did 
not prevent their being good and clever girls, and I had 
contempt forthem. Then, having made a hobby of frank- 
ness, and applying this idea to myself in the extreme, I 
accused the quiet and trustful nature of Lytbochka of 
secretiveness and hypocrisy because she did not see any 
necessity for unearthing and displaying all her thoughts 
and feelings. For example, Lyttbochka’s making the sign 
of the cross over papa in the evening, her weeping and 
that of Kdtenka in the chapel, whenever they went to 
serve mass for mother, Katenka’s sighing and rolling her 
eyes, when she played on the piano, —all that appeared 
to me as the merest hypocrisy, and I asked myself: 
“When did they learn to feign like grown people, and 
why are they not ashamed ?” 


XXX. 
MY OCCUPATIONS 


In spite of it all, I became that summer much more 
friendly with our young ladies, through my newly mani- 
fested passion for music. In the spring a young neigh- 
bour introduced himself at our house. The moment he 
entered the drawing-room he began to gaze at the piano 
and imperceptibly to move his chair up to it, while 
speaking with Mimi and Katenka. After having said 
something about the weather and the pleasures of country 
life, he skilfully led up the conversation to a piano tuner, 
to music, and to the piano, and finally announced to us 
that he played, and, indeed, soon played for us three 
waltzes, while Lytibochka, Mimi, and Katenka stood at 
the piano and looked at him. This young man never 
called at our house again, but I took a great liking to his 
playing, his attitude at the piano, his head-shake, and 
especially his manner of taking octaves with his left hand, 
by rapidly stretching his little finger and thumb to an 
octave span, then slowly bringing them together, and 
again swiftly stretching them. This graceful gesture, his 
careless attitude, his head-shake, and the attention which 
the ladies showed to his talent gave me the idea of play- 
ing the piano. In consequence of this idea and because I 
convinced myself that I had talent and a passion for 
music, I began studying it. In this respect I acted like 
millions of people, of the masculine, but particularly of 


the feminine sex, who study without a good teacher, with- 
383 


384 YOUTH 


out a real calling, and without the least conception what 
this art can offer them, and how they are to go about it. 
in order that it should offer them something. For me, 
music, or rather piano playing, was a means to charm the 
girls with my sentiments. With the aid of Katenka, I 
learned the notes, and limbered up my fat fingers; how- 
ever, I used more than two months to accomplish this, 
and was so studious that even at dinner I practised with 
my refractory ring-finger on my knee, and in my bed on 
my pillow. I soon began to play “pieces,” and played 
them, of course, with feeling, avec ame, as Kaétenka herself 
admitted, but not in time. 

The choice of pieces was the usual one, waltzes, galops, 
romances, arranged arias, and so forth, all by those 
charming composers, of which every man with a little 
healthy taste will select a small pile from a mass of beau- 
tiful things in a music store, saying, “These things one 
ought never to play, because nothing more insipid and 
stupid has ever been put down on music paper,” and 
which, no doubt, for this very reason, you may find on 
the piano of every Russian young lady. It is true we had 
also “Sonate Pathétique” and the Cis-mol sonatas of 
Beethoven, for ever maimed and torn by the young ladies, 
which Lytibochka played in memory of mother, and a 
few other good things which her Moscow teacher had 
given her; but there were also compositions by that 
teacher, insipid marches and galops, which Lytibochka 
played also. 

Katenka and I did not like serious things, and preferred 
to everything “Le Fou” and “The Nightingale,” which 
Katenka played so that the fingers could not be seen, and 
I began to play quite loud and smoothly. I appropriated 
to myself the gesture of the young man, and frequently 
regretted that there were no strangers to see me play. 
Soon Liszt and Kalkbrenner proved to be above my 
strength, and I saw no chance of catching up with 


MY OCCUPATIONS 385 


Katenka. For this reason, having concluded that clas- 
sical music is easier, and also for the sake of originality, I 
suddenly decided that I liked the German classical music, 
became enthusiastic whenever Lytibochka played “Sonate 
Pathétique,” although, to tell the truth, that sonata had 
long been palling upon me, and began myself to play 
Beethoven and to pronounce his name in the German 
fashion. Through all that tangle and hypocrisy I had, as 
I remember, something like talent, because music fre- 
quently affected me powerfully to tears, and the things 
that I liked I managed to pick out on the piano without 
notes, so that if somebody had taught me then to look 
upon music as an aim, as an independent enjoyment, and 
not as a means with which to charm girls by the rapidity 
and expressiveness of my playing, I might have in reality 
become a decent musician. 

The reading of French novels, of which Voldédya had 
brought many with him, was my other occupation during 
that summer. It was then that all kinds of “ Monte 
Cristos”” and “ Secrets” began to appear, and I pored over 
the books of Sue, Dumas, and Paul de Kock. All the 
most unnatural persons and incidents were as true to me 
as reality, and I not only did not dare to suspect the 
author of lying, but the author himself did not exist for 
me; from the printed page rose before me the living, real 
people and incidents. If I nowhere had met people that 
resembled those of whom I read, I did not for a moment 
doubt that I should some day. 

I experienced in myself all the passions described, and 
perceived a similarity between me and all the characters, 
both the heroes and the villains of every novel, just as a 
susceptible man finds in himself the symptoms of every 
possible disease, when he reads a medical work. I liked 
in these novels the cunning ideas, the fiery passions, the 
magic incidents, the perfect characters, —if good, abso- 
lutely good, if bad, absolutely bad, — just as in my first 


386 YOUTH 


youth I imagined people to be; I was also very much 
pleased because it was all in French, and because the 
noble words which the noble heroes spoke, I could learn 
by heart and quote on the occasion of some noble deed. 
How many different French phrases I thought out by the 
aid of these novels, to be used to Kolpikév, if I ever met 
him, and to her, when I should at last see her and confess 
my love to her! I was preparing to tell them something 
from which they would be overcome the moment they 
heard me. 

On the basis of the novels, I even formed new ideals of 
moral qualities which I strove to attain. I wished above 
everything in all my acts and affairs to be “noble” (I 
use the French word, because it has a different signifi- 
cance from the Russian, which the Germans have compre- 
hended, by adopting the word “ nobel” and not mixing it 
up with the conception of “ehrlich”), then to be passion- 
ate, and finally, to be as comme il fawt as possible, for 
which, however, I had a leaning even before. I tried in 
my looks and habits to resemble the heroes who had any 
of these qualities. I remember, in one of the hundred 
books which I had read that summer, there was one 
exceedingly passionate hero with thick eyebrows, and I 
was so anxious to resemble him in appearance (I felt 
myself morally to be his equal) that when I looked at my 
eyebrows in the mirror, I decided to cut them a little that 
they might grow out thicker; but when I began to cut 
them, I accidently cut too much in one spot, and it was 
necessary to even them up; to my terror I noticed in the 
mirror that I had lost my eyebrows altogether, and, con- 
sequently, was very ill-looking. But hoping that my 
brows would soon grow out thick as in a passionate man, 
I consoled myself, and was only disconcerted as to what 
to say to my people when they should see me without 
eyebrows. I got some powder from Voldédya, rubbed it 
into my eyebrows and burnt it. Although the powder 


MY OCCUPATIONS 387 


did not flash up, I sufficiently resembled one who is 
burnt, and no one discovered my cunning; and really, 
when I had entirely forgotten about the passionate man, 
my eyebrows grew much thicker. 


XXXI. 
COMME IL FAUT 


In the course of this narrative I have frequently hinted 
at the conception which corresponds to this French title, 
and now I feel myself constrained to devote a whole chap- 
ter to the conception that was one of the most disastrous 
and false ideas with which I was inoculated by educa- 
tion and society. 

The human race may be divided into a variety of 
classes, — into rich and poor, good and bad, soldiers and 
citizens, wise and foolish, and so on; but every man 
invariably has a favourite chief classification of his own, 
in which he unconsciously places every new person. My 
chief and favourite classification at the time of which I 
am writing was into people comme i faut and comme il 
ne faut pas. The second division was subdivided into 
people more particularly not comme wu faut, and into the 
common people. I respected people comme i faut, and 
considered them worthy of being on an equality of rela- 
tions with me; I pretended a contempt for the second, 
but in reality hated them, cherishing against them an 
offended feeling of personality ; the third did not exist for 
me, —I disregarded them entirely. My comme uw faut 
consisted, first and foremost, in the use of an excellent 
French, more especially in the pronunciation. A man 
who pronounced French badly immediately provoked a 
feeling of hatred in me. “ Why do you attempt to speak 


as we do, if you do not know how?” I asked him men- 
388 


COMME IL FAUT 389 


tally, with a venomous smile. The second condition for 
comme i faut consisted in long, manicured, and clean 
nails. The third was the ability to curtsey, dance, and 
converse. The fourth, and this was very important, was 
an indifference to everything, and a constant expression 
of a certain elegant, supercilious ennui. In addition to 
these, I had common signs, by which I decided to what 
category a man belonged, even without speaking with him. 
My chief sign, outside of the room, gloves, handwriting, 
and carriage, were the feet. The relation of a man’s boots 
to his pantaloons at once decided in my eyes his standing. 
Boots without heels, with sharp tips, and narrow borders 
of the pantaloons without straps,— that was a common 
man; boots with narrow round tips, and with heels, and 
pantaloons with narrow borders and straps, tightly fitting 
the legs, or broad, with straps standing out like canopies 
over the tips, —that was a man mauvais genre, and so 
forth. 

It is strange that this conception of comme w faut 
should have become such a part of me, for I myself did 
not possess the least fitness for it. And, maybe, it took 
such strong possession of me, for the very reason that it 
cost me such effort to acquire this comme i faut. It is 
terrible to think how much invaluable time of my seven- 
teenth year I wasted on the acquisition of this quality. 
It seemed to me that all those whom I imitated, Volddya, 
Dubkév, and the larger part of my acquaintances, learned 
it with ease. I looked at them with envy, and quietly 
worked at my French, at the art of bowing without look- 
ing at the person to whom I bowed, at the art of convers- 
ing and dancing, at evolving in myself an indifference to 
everything and ennui, at my nails, cutting my flesh to the 
quick with scissors, — and I still felt that there was much 
labour left before I should reach the goal. My room, my 
writing-desk, my carriage,—all that I was unable to 
arrange in such a way as to be comme wl faut, although, 


390 YOUTH 


in spite of my disinclination for practical work, I laboured 
very hard over it. With others everything seemed to go 
right, without the least effort, as though it could not be 
otherwise. 

I remember how once, after a prolonged and vain effort 
over my nails, I asked Dubkév, whose nails were remark- 
ably beautiful, how long they had been in that shape, and 
how he had managed it. Dubkév answered me: “ As far 
back as I can remember myself, I have done nothing to 
make them so, and I cannot understand how a decent fel- 
low can have any other nails.” This answer grieved me 
very much. I did not know at that time that one of the 
chief conditions of comme il faut was secrecy in regard to 
the labours by which this comme wa faut is acquired. 

Comme wl faut was for me not only an important merit, 
a beautiful quality, a perfection, which I wished to obtain, 
but it was a necessary condition of life, without which 
there could be no happiness, no glory, nothing good in the 
world. I should not have respected a famous artist, a 
savant, a benefactor of the human race, if he were not 
comme il faut. A man comme i faut stood beyond com- 
parison higher than they; he left it to them to paint, 
compose music, write books, and do good, he even praised 
them for it, — why not praise the good wherever it may 
be found ?— but he could not place himself on the same 
level with them, for he was comme i faut, and they were 
not,—and that was enough. It seems to me that if I 
had had a brother, mother, or father who were not comme 
al faut, I should have said that it was a misfortune, and 
that there could be nothing in common between me and 
them. 

But not the loss of the golden time, which was 
employed on the assiduous task of preserving all the diffi- 
cult conditions of the comme il faut, that excluded every 
serious application, nor the hatred and contempt for nine- 
tenths of the human race, nor the absence of any interest 


COMME IL FAUT 391 


in all the beauty that existed outside that circle of comme 
uw faut, was the greatest evil which this conception caused 
me. The greatest evil consisted in the conviction that 
comme il faut was an independent position in society, that 
a man did not have to try to be an official, or a carriage- 
maker, or a soldier, or a learned man, if he was comme il 
faut; that, having reached that position, he had already 
fulfilled his purpose, and even stood higher than most 
people. 

At a certain period of his youth, every man, after many 
blunders and transports, generally faces the necessity of 
taking an active part in social life, chooses some depart- 
ment of labour, and devotes himself to it; but this seldom 
happens with the man who is comme a faut. I know 
many, very many old, proud, self-confident people, sharp 
in their judgments, who to the question which may be 
given in the next world, “Who are you? And what 
have you been doing there?” would not be able to 
answer otherwise than: “Je fus un homme tres comme il 
Jaut.” 

This fate awaited me. 


XXXII. 
YOUTH 


In spite of the jumble of ideas which took place in my 
head, I was in those years young, innocent, and free, and, 
therefore, almost happy. 

At times I rose early, and this happened quite often. 
I slept in the open on the terrace, and the bright, slanting 
rays of the morning sun woke me. I dressed myself in a 
hurry, took a towel under my arms, and a French novel, 
and went to take a bath in the river, in the shade of a 
birch forest, which was but half a verst from the house. 
There I lay down in the grass in the shade and read, now 
and then tearing my eyes away from the book, in order to 
glance at the surface of the river which was violet in the 
shade, and began to ripple in the morning breeze, at 
the field of yellowing rye on the opposite bank, at the 
bright red light of the morning rays, painting ever lower 
the white trunks of the birches which, hiding one behind 
the other, passed away from me into the distance of the 
thick forest, and I enjoyed the consciousness of just such 
a fresh, young power of life as Nature was breathing all 
around me. When there were early gray cloudlets in the 
sky, and I felt chilled after my bath, I frequently walked 
across fields and through woods, regardless of roads, and 
with enjoyment wet my feet through my boots in the 
fresh dew. At that time I had vivid dreams about 


the heroes of my latest novel, and I imagined myself now 
392 


YOUTH 393 


a general, now a minister, now an extraordinary strong 
man, now a passionate person, and with a certain thrill 
continually locked about me, in the hope of suddenly 
meeting her in the clearing or behind a tree. 

When, in these walks, I came across peasants working, 
I, in spite of the fact that the common people did not ex- 
ist for me, experienced an unconscious strong trepidation, 
and tried not to be seen by them. When it grew warmer, 
and the ladies had not yet come out for tea, I walked into 
the orchard or garden to eat the fruits and vegetables 
which were ripe. This occupation afforded me one of my 
greatest pleasures. I would go to the apple orchard, and 
there lose myself in the midst of a high tangle of rasp- 
berry bushes. Above my head was the bright, hot sky, 
and around me the pale green, prickly verdure of the 
raspberry bushes, intermingled with rank weeds. The 
dark green nettles, with their thin flowering tops, towered 
upwards in serried ranks; the claw-shaped burdocks, with 
their unnaturally violet prickly flowers, grew rankly above 
the raspberry bushes and higher than my head, and here 
and there, together with the nettles, reached up to the 
spreading, pale green branches of the old apple-trees, where, 
far above, the round, green apples, shining like ivory balls, 
were ripening against the hot sun. Below, a young rasp- 
berry bush, almost dried up and without leaves, winding, 
tended toward the sun; the green, needle-shaped grass 
and the young sage, bursting through the last year’s dew- 
drenched leaves, grew luxuriantly in the eternal shade, as 
if they did not know that the sun was playing brightly on 
the leaves of the apple-tree. 

In this thicket it was always damp, and there was an 
odour of dense, permanent shade, of cobwebs, of rotting 
apples that lay black on the damp earth, of raspberries, 
and, at times, also of chermes which I accidentally swal- 
lowed with a raspberry and washed down by quickly eat- 
ing another berry. In moving ahead I frightened some 


394 YOUTH 


sparrows that always live in such thickets, and heard their 
hasty twittering and the strokes of their tiny, swift wings 
against the branches, and the buzzing of a honey bee in 
one spot, and, somewhere on the path, the steps of the 
gardener, Akim the fool, and his eternal mumbling. I 
thought, “ No, neither he, nor any one else in the world, 
will find me here,” — and with both hands I picked right 
and left the juicy berries from the white conical pedicels, 
and with avidity swallowed one after another. My legs, 
even above my knees, were wet through and through; my 
head was filled with some terrible nonsense (I mentally 
repeated, a thousand times in succession: “ A-a-and twe- 
e-enty a-a-and se-e-even ”); my arms and legs were stung 
through my wet clothes by the nettles; my head was 
burnt by the direct rays of the sun that penetrated 
through the thicket ; I had long satisfied my hunger, and 
still I remained in the thicket, looking around, listening, 
meditating, and mechanically picking and swallowing 
some choice berry. 

At about eleven o’clock I generally went to the draw- 
ing-room, usually after tea, when the ladies were sitting at 
their work. Near the first window, shaded from the sun 
by its unbleached canvas blind, through the rents of 
which the glaring sun cast such shining fiery circles on 
everything it struck that it was painful to look at them, 
stood an embroidery-frame, over the white linen of which 
leisurely walked some flies. Mimi sat at the frame, con- 
tinually shrugging her head in anger, and moving from 
place to place, to escape the sun which, suddenly bursting 
through, cast a fiery strip now here, now there, upon her 
hand or face. Through the other three windows fell 
bright, perfect parallelograms, encased in the shadow of 
the window-frames; on the unpainted floor of the room, 
Milka, true to her old habit, lay on one of these parallel- 
ograms and, pricking her ears, watched the flies that 
walked over it. Kdadtenka was knitting or reading, while 


YOUTH 395 


seated on the sofa, and impatiently warded off the flies 
with her white hands, which appeared translucent in the 
sun, or, frowning, shook her head in order to drive out a 
fly that had lost itself in her thick golden hair. Lyu- 
bochka paced the room, with her hands behind her back, 
waiting for us all to go to the garden, or played on the 
piano a piece, every note of which had long been familiar 
tome. I seated myself somewhere, listening to her music 
or to the reading, and waited for a chance to sit down at 
the piano myself. 

After’dinner I sometimes honoured the girls with my 
presence in their horseback rides (to walk I regarded as 
incompatible with my years and position in the world). 
Our outings — when I took them to unusual places and 
ravines — were very pleasant. At times accidents hap- 
pened to us, when I showed myself a brave fellow, and the 
ladies praised my riding and my daring, and considered 
me their protector. In the evening we drank tea in the 
shady veranda, and, if there were no guests, I took a walk 
with papa to inspect the estate, and then lay down in my 
old place, the large armchair, and, listening to Kaétenka’s 
or Lytibochka’s music, read a book and at the same time 
mused as of old. 

At times, when I was left alone in the drawing-room, 
while Lytibochka was playing some ancient piece of music, 
I involuntarily put down my book, and gazed through 
the open door of the balcony, at the curly pendent 
branches of the tall birches, upon which the evening 
shadows were falling, and at the clear sky, on which, 
upon looking fixedly at it, there seemed to appear and 
disappear a dusty, yellowish spot; and I listened to the 
music in the parlour, the creak of the gate, the voices of 
the peasant women, and the returning herds in the 
village, — and I suddenly thought of Natalya Sdvishna, 
and mamma, and Karl Ivdnovich, and for a moment felt 
sad. But my soul was at that time so full of life and 


396 YOUTH 


hopes, that this reminiscence only touched me with its 
pinion, and flew off again. 

After supper, and, at times, after an evening stroll with 
some one through the garden, — I was afraid to waik by 
myself through the dark avenues, — I went to sleep alone 
on the floor of the veranda, which afforded me great 
pleasure, in spite of the millions of mosquitoes that 
devoured me. When there was a full moon, I frequently 
passed the whole night sitting on my mattress, gazing at 
the light and shadows, listening to the silence and to the 
sounds, dreaming about all kinds of subjects, especially 
about the poetical, voluptuous happiness that then seemed 
to me to be the greatest happiness of life, and repining 
because until then it had been my fate only to imagine 
it. When all the people went to their rooms, and the 
lights of the drawing-room were transferred to the upper 
chambers, where the feminine voices and the noise of 
opening and closing windows could be heard, I used to 
repair to the veranda, and walk to and fro there, eagerly 
listening to all the sounds of the house falling asleep. As 
long as there was the least, causeless hope for even an 
imperfect happiness of the kind I was dreaming of, I was 
not able calmly to construe the imaginary happiness. 

At every sound of bare feet, of coughing, sighing, slam- 
ming a window, rustle of dresses, I jumped up from my 
bed, stealthily listened and watched, and for no apparent 
cause became agitated. But now the lights went out in 
the upper windows; the sounds of steps and talking were 
exchanged for the sound of snoring; the watchman began 
to strike the board in the night fashion; the garden grew 
both brighter and more gloomy, when the streaks of red 
light disappeared from the windows; the last light passed 
from the buffet-room to the antechamber, throwing a 
bright streak over the dewy garden, and I saw through 
the window the stooping figure of Féka, who, in his jacket, 
and with a candle in his hand, was going to his bed. 


YOUTH 397 


I often found a great, agitating pleasure in stealing over 
the damp grass in the black shadow of the house to the 
window of the antechamber, in order to listen breathlessly 
to the snoring of the boy, to the moans of Féka, who did 
not suspect that anybody was listening to him, and to 
the sound of his feeble voice, as he was saying his prayers. 
At last his candle, too, was blown out; the window was 
slammed to ; I was left all alone, and timidly looking about 
me, hoping to see a white woman somewhere in the flower- 
garden or near my bed, I ran at full speed up to the 
veranda. Then I lay down on my bed, facing the garden, 
and, protecting myself as much as possible against mos- 
quitoes and bats, looked into the garden, listened to the 
sounds of the night, and dreamt of love and happiness. 

Then, everything came to have a new meaning for me: 
the sight of the ancient birches, which, on one side 
glistened in the moonlit sky with their curly branches, 
and, on the other, gloomily shrouded the bushes and the 
road with their dark shadows ; and the quiet, rich sheen 
of the pond, evenly growing, like sound; and the moonlit 
glitter of the dewdrops on the flowers in front of the 
veranda, casting their graceful shadows across the gray 
flower box: and the sound of the quail beyond the pond ; 
and the voice of a man on the highway; and the quiet, 
scarcely audible creaking of two old birches grating against 
each other; and the buzzing of a mosquito above my ear, 
under the coverlet; and the fall of an apple, caught in 
the branches, upon the dry leaves; and the leaping of the 
frogs that now and then came up tothe steps of the 
terrace, and mysteriously glistened in the moon with their 
greenish backs, — all that had a new, strange meaning 
for me,—a meaning of some extraordinary beauty and 
unfinished happiness. And then she appeared with her 
dark black braid, and swelling bosom, always sad and beau- 
tiful, with bared arms, with voluptuous embraces. She 
loved me, and I sacrified all my life for one minute of her 


398 YOUTH 


love. And the moon rose higher and higher, and stood 
brighter and brighter in the heavens, the rich sheen of 
the pond, evenly growing, like sound, became more and 
more distinct, the shadows became blacker and blacker, 
and the light ever more transparent; and as I looked at 
all that and listened, something told me that she, with 
her bared arms and passionate embraces, was very far 
from being all the happiness in the world, that the love 
for her was very far from being all the bliss; and the 
more I looked at the full moon up on high, the higher did 
true beauty and goodness appear to me, and purer and 
nearer to Him, the source of all that is beautiful and 
good, and tears of an unsatisfied, but stirring joy stood in 
my eyes. 

And I was all alone, and it seemed to me that mys- 
terious, majestic Nature, the attractive bright disk of the 
moon, which had for some reason stopped in one high, 
undefined place of the pale blue sky, and yet stood every- 
where and, as it were, filled all the immeasurable space, 
and I, insignificant worm, defiled already by all petty, 
wretched human passions, but with all the immeasurable, 
mighty power of love, — it seemed to me in those minutes 
that Nature, and the moon, and I were one and the same. 


XXXII. 
NEIGHBOURS 


I was very much surprised when, on the day of our 
arrival, papa called our neighbours, the Epifanovs, excel- 
lent people, and still more so when I heard that he 
called upon them. The Epifdénovs and we had for a long 
time been at law for a certain tract of land. When I 
was a child I used to hear papa getting angry on account 
of this litigation, scolding the Epifdnovs, and calling in 
different people, in order to defend himself against them, 
as I thought. I heard Yakov calling them our enemies 
and “black people,” and I remember mamma’s asking 
that even the name of these people should not be men- 
tioned in her house and in her presence. 

From these data I formed in my childhood such a firm 
and clear idea that the Epifanovs were our enemies, who 
were ready to cut the throats not only of papa, but also 
of his son, if he ever fell into their hands, and that 
they were in the literal sense “black people,” that when 
I saw, the year mother died, Avddtya Vasilevna Epifdnov, 
la belle Flamande, taking care of mother, I could not 
bring myself to believe that she belonged to a family 
of black people. Still, I retained a very low opinion of 
that family. Although we frequently saw each other 
during that summer, I continued to be strangely preju- 
diced against them. In reality, these were the Epifdnovs: 
their family consisted of a mother, a fifty-year-old 


widow, who was a well preserved and happy cld woman, 
899 


400 YOUTH 


her beautiful daughter, Avddtya Vasflevna, and her 
stuttering son, Peter Vasilevich, an unmarried ex-lieuten- 
ant, a man of very serious character. 

Anna Dmitrievna Epifanov had lived separated from 
her husband for the last twenty years of his life, staying 
now in St. Petersburg, where she had some relatives, but 
mostly in her village of Mytishchi, which was about 
three versts from us. They used to tell such terrible 
things about her manner of life that Messalina was an 
innocent child in comparison with her. It was for this 
that mother had asked that her name should not be 
mentioned in her house ; but, without being at all ironical, 
one could not believe even one-tenth of this most mali- 
cious of all gossips, the gossip of country neighbours. 

When I became acquainted with Anna Dmitrievna, 
there was nothing resembling that which was still told 
of her, though there lived in her house an office clerk, 
Mityusha, a serf, who during dinner stood, pomaded and 
spruce, in a coat made in the Circassian fashion, behind 
Anna Dmitrievna’s chair, and she frequently invited her 
guests in French to admire his beautiful eyes and mouth. 
It seems that Anna Dmitrievna had entirely changed 
her mode of life when, ten years before, she had ordered 
her dutiful son Petrtisha to leave the service and come 
home. Anna Dmitrievna’s estate was small,—in all 
about one hundred souls, —and during her gay life there 
were great expenses, so that ten years before, her mort- 
gaged and remortgaged property was forfeited and to be 
sold at auction without fail. Under these extreme cir- 
cumstances Anna Dmitrievna supposed that the receiver- 
ship, the invoice of the property, the arrival of the 
officers, and similar annoyances were due not so much to 
the failure in paying the interest as to the fact that she 
was a woman; so she wrote to her son that he should 
come and save his mother in this predicament. Although 
everything in his service went so well that he soon 


NEIGHBOURS AQ] 


expected to earn his own bread, he threw up everything, 
asked for his discharge, and, like a dutiful son who 
regarded it as his first duty to comfort his own mother 
(as he very frankly wrote to her), came down to the 
estate. 

Peter Vasilevich was, in spite of his homely face, 
gawkiness, and stuttering, a man of exceedingly firm 
character and unusually practical mind. By petty loans, 
investments, prayers, and promises he managed to keep 
the estate. Having become a landed proprietor, Peter 
Vasilevich donned his father’s wadded coat, which had 
been kept in the storeroom, did away with the carriages 
and horses, taught the guests not to visit Mytishchi, and 
fixed the ditches, increased the ploughed area, diminished 
the land of the peasants, cut down the timber with his 
own men and sold it advantageously, and improved 
affairs. Peter Vasilevich vowed, and he kept his word, not 
to wear anything but his father’s wadded coat, and a 
sail-cloth ulster which he had made for himself, nor to 
travel otherwise than in a cart with peasant horses, until 
all the debts should be paid. He endeavoured to extend 
this stoical manner of life to his whole family, so far as 
his servile respect for his mother, which he considered his 
duty, permitted him to. In the drawing-room he stutter- 
ingly worshipped his mother, fulfilled all her wishes, and 
scolded the servants if they did not do what she had 
commanded ; but in his cabinet and in the office he was 
very exacting, if a duck had been taken to the table with- 
cut his permission, or a peasant had been sent by order 
of Anna Dmf{trievna to ask about a neighbour’s health, 
or peasant girls were told to go to the woods to pick 
berries, when they ought to have been in the garden, 
weeding. 

Four years later all the debts were paid, and Peter 
Vasilevich, who had gone to St. Petersburg, returned from 
there in a new suit and in a tarantas. In spite of this 


402 YOUTH 


flourishing state of affairs, he kept the same stoical in- 
clinations, of which he seemed gloomily to boast before 
his own people and before strangers, and he used to say, 
stammering, “ He who is anxious to see me will be glad to 
see me in a sheepskin, and will eat my cabbage soup and 
buckwheat porridge. I eat them,” he added. In every 
word and movement of his was expressed pride, which 
was based on the conviction that he had sacrificed him- 
self for his mother and had saved the estate, and a con- 
tempt for others if they had not done something similar. 

The mother and the daughter were of entirely different 
character, and in many things dissimilar to each other. 
The mother was one of the most agreeable women in 
society, always equally kindly and gay. Everything 
pleasing and joyful gave her genuine happiness. Even 
the faculty of enjoying the sight of merrymaking young 
people, a characteristic which is met with only in the 
case of the kindlest old people, was highly developed 
in her. Her daughter, Avddétya Vasilevna, was, on the 
contrary, of a serious turn of mind, or rather of that 
indifferently absent-minded and groundlessly haughty 
character which is so common in unmarried beauties. 
When she tried to be mirthful, her merriment was of 
a peculiar sort: it looked as though she made fun of her- 
self, or of the person to whom she was speaking, or of 
the whole world, which she certainly did not mean to do. 
I often wondered, and asked myself what it was she 
intended to say when she used such phrases as: “ Yes, 
I am awfully beautiful; why, of course, everybody loves 
me,” and so forth. 

Anna Dmitrievna was always active: she had a passion 
for arranging her house and garden, for flowers, canaries, 
and pretty trifles. Her rooms and garden were small and 
simple, but everything was fixed so precisely and neatly, 
and so bore that common character of facile mirth which 
is expressed in a pretty waltz or polka, that the word 


NEIGHBOURS 403 


“toy,” which was frequently used by her guests to praise 
things, exactly fitted Anna Dmitrievna’s garden and rooms. 
Anna Dmitrievna herself was a toy, — small, thin, with a 
fresh colour in her face, with pretty little hands, always 
happy and becomingly dressed. Only the dark violet 
veins which stood out too much in relief upon her small 
hands destroyed this ensemble. 

Avdétya Vasflevna, on the contrary, hardly ever did 
anything, and not only did not care to busy herself with 
any trifles or flowers, but even cared very little about her- 
self, and always ran away to get dressed when guests 
arrived. But when she came back in her fine clothes she 
was uncommonly beautiful, with the exception of a cold 
and monotonous expression of the eyes and the smile 
which is to be found in all very beautiful persons. Her 
severely regular and comely face and her stately figure 
seemed to be saying all the time, “If you please, you may 
look at me!” 

Yet, in spite of the lively character of the mother and 
the indifferent, absent-minded appearance of the daughter, 
something told you that the first one had never before, 
nor even then, loved anything, except that which was 
pretty and jolly, and that Avddétya Vasilevna was one of 
those natures who, when they once fall in love, sacrifice 
all their life to him whom they love. 


ROOCL VY; 
FATHER’S MARRIAGE 


FATHER was forty-eight years old when he married for 
the second time. His wife was Avdétya Vasilevna 
Epifanov. 

Having arrived at the estate in the spring, all alone 
with the girls, papa, I imagine, was in that agitated, 
happy, and communicative frame of mind which generally 
comes over gamblers who stop playing after some great 
winnings. He felt that he had much unexpended happi- 
ness left, which he could make use of for successes in life 
in general, if he no longer wished to utilize it in cards. 
Besides, it was spring, he unexpectedly had a large sum 
of money, he was alone, and suffered ennuiw When he 
talked to Yakov about affairs and recalled the endless liti- 
gation with the Epifdnovs, and fair Avdétya Vasilevna, 
whom he had not seen for a long time, I imagine his hav- 
ing said to Yakov: “ Do you know, Yékov Kharlampych, 
rather than bother much longer about this litigation, I 
have a mind to let them have that accursed piece of land. 
Well, what do you think of it ?” 

I imagine how Ydkov’s fingers twitched negatively 
behind his back at such a question, and how he proved 
that “ all the same, our cause is just, Peter Alekséndrovich.” 

But papa ordered his carriage out, donned his fashionable 
olive wadded coat, combed what was left of his hair, 
sprinkled some perfume on his handkerchief, and in the 
happiest frame of mind, produced by his conviction that 

404 


FATHER’S MARRIAGE 405 


he was acting like a great gentleman, but especially by 
the hope that he would see a beautiful woman, drove over 
to his neighbour’s. 

All I know is that papa did not upon his first visit find 
Peter Vasflevich at home, for he was in the field, but 
passed an hour with the ladies. I imagine how profuse 
he was in civilities, how he charmed them, tapping his 
soft boot, lisping, and casting tender glances. I imagine, 
too, how the gay old woman suddenly took a liking for 
him, and how her fair, cold daughter suddenly became 
enlivened. 

When a servant-girl came running out of breath to 
announce that old Irténev himself was calling at the 
house, I imagine how Peter Vasilevich answered, angrily, 
“What of it, if he is ?” and how he in consequence thereof 
went home as slowly as possible; how, upon arriving in 
his cabinet, he purposely put on the dirtiest overcoat and 
sent word to the cook not to dare add anything to the 
dinner, even if the ladies did command him to. 

Later I frequently saw papa with Epifdnov, therefore 
I can vividly represent to myself that first meeting. I 
imagine how, in spite of papa’s proposition to settle the 
litigation by arbitration, Peter Vasilevich was sullen and 
angry, because he had sacrificed his career for his mother, 
while papa had done nothing of the kind; how nothing 
surprised him; and how papa, disregarding his sullenness, 
was playful and merry, and treated him like a wonderful 
joker, which partly offended Peter Vasilevich, and partly 
made him surrender in spite of himself. Papa, with his 
tendency to turn everything into a joke, called Peter Vast- 
levich colonel, and although Epifdnov once in my presence 
remarked, stuttering worse than ever and blushing from 
annoyance, that he was not a colonel, but a leutenant, 
papa called him colonel again five minutes later. 

Lytibochka told me that, before our arrival in the 
country, they had met the Epifdénovs daily, and had very 


406 YOUTH 


pleasant times with them. Papa, with his customary 
cleverness in arranging things originally, entertainingly, 
and at the same time simply and elegantly, gave now 
hunting parties, now angling parties, now firework dis- 
plays, at which the Epifénovs were present. “And it 
would have been even more enjoyable if it were not for 
that intolerable Peter Vasflevich, who was sullen, and stut- 
tered, and spoiled everything,” said Lyubochka. 

Since our arrival, the Epifaénovs had called but twice, 
and once we went to see them. After St. Peter’s Day, 
father’s name-day, when they and a large number of guests 
called, our relations with the Epifdnovs for some reason 
or other were completely stopped, and only papa con- 
tinued to visit them. 

This is what I noticed in the short time in which I saw 
papa together with Dunichka, as her mother called her. 
Papa was continually in that happy frame of mind by 
which I was struck on the day of our arrival. He was so 
merry, young, full of life, and happy, that the beams of 
that happiness extended to all those who surrounded him 
and involuntarily communicated the same disposition to 
them. He never stirred a step from Avddtya Vasilevna 
when she was in the room, continually paid her such 
sweet compliments that I was ashamed for him, or, look- 
ing at her in silence, jerked his shoulder in an impassioned 
and self-satisfied manner, and coughed, or, smiling, at times 
spoke to her in a whisper; and he did all this with an 
expression which said, “I am just jesting,” which was 
characteristic of him in the most serious affairs. 

Avdétya Vasflevna seemed to have appropriated from 
papa the expression of happiness which almost uninter- 
ruptedly shone in her large blue eyes, except in those 
moments when she was seized by fits of bashfulness, so 
that I, who knew that feeling well, felt sorry and pained 
for her. At such moments she apparently was afraid of 
every glance and motion, thinking that everybody looked 


FATHERS MARRIAGE 407 


at her, thought of her alone, and found everything about 
her wrong. She looked timidly at every one, the colour 
of her cheeks kept changing, and she began to speak 
loudly and boldly, mostly silly things, and she felt that 
papa and everybody heard them, and blushed even more. 
But papa did not notice her insipidities under these cir- 
cumstances, and continued to watch her with the same 
impassioned, mirthful ecstasy, coughing now and then. I 
noticed that, although Avdétya Vasilevna was taken by 
fits of bashfulness without any cause whatsoever, these 
sometimes followed soon after papa’s mentioning some 
young and beautiful woman. Her frequent changes from 
pensiveness to that kind of strange, uneasy merriment of 
which I spoke before, the repetition of papa’s favourite 
words and turns of speech, the continuation with others 
of conversations which were begun with papa, —all that 
would have explained to me papa’s relations with Avdétya 
Vasilevna, if the dramatis persona had been another than 
papa, and I a little older; but at that time I did not sus- 
pect anything, even when papa was very much put out by 
a letter which he had received from Peter Vasilevich, and 
stopped calling upon them until the end of August. 

Toward the end of August he again started to visit his 
neighbours, and on the day preceding our (Volddya’s and 
mine) departure for Moscow, he announced to us that he 
was about to marry Avdétya Vasilevna Epifdnov. 


XXXYV. 
HOW WE RECEIVED THE NEWS 


ON the day preceding that official announcement, every- 
body in the house knew and judged variously of this 
affair. Mimi did not leave her room all day, and wept. 
Katenka sat with her and came out only to dinner, with an 
offended expression on her face, which she obviously had 
adopted from her mother; Lytibochka, on the contrary, 
was very merry, and said at dinner that she knew an 
excellent secret, but that she would not tell it to anybody. 

“There is nothing excellent in your secret,” replied 
Voldédya, who did not share her pleasure. “If you were 
able to think seriously about matters, you would under- 
stand that this is, on the contrary, very bad.” 

Lyttbochka looked fixedly at him in amazement, and 
grew silent. 

After dinner Volédya wanted to take my hand, but, 
becoming frightened, no doubt, lest it should be considered 
a tenderness, only touched my elbow, and beckoned to me 
to come to the parlour. 

“Do you know the secret of which Lytibochka was 
speaking?” he said to me when he was sure we were 
alone. 

We rarely spoke without witnesses, or at all seriously 
about anything, so that when this happened we both felt 
ill at ease, and, as Volddya used to say, little imps began 
to jump up and down in our eyes; but this time he, in 


answer to the confusion which was expressed in my face, 
408 


HOW WE RECEIVED THE NEWS 409 


continued to look fixedly and seriously at me, with an 
expression which said: “There is nothing to get confused 
about; we are brothers after all, and ought to consult 
together about an important family matter.” I understood 
him, and he continued: 

“ Papa is about to marry Miss Epifanov, you know ?” 

I nodded, because I had already heard about it. 

“Tt is very unfortunate,” continued Volddya. 

«Why ?” 

«Why ?” he answered, annoyed. “It is a great pleas- 
ure to have such a stammerer of an uncle as the colonel, 
and all that family. And she herself just now seems 
kind and all that, but who knows what she will be later ? 
To us, I must say, it does not make much difference, but 
Lytibochka must soon make her début in society. With 
such a belle-mere it is not especially pleasant; she even 
speaks poor French, and what manners can she teach 
her? A poissarde, and nothing else; I admit she is 
kind, but a poissarde all the same,” concluded Voldédya, 
evidently very much satisfied with the appellation “ povs- 
sarde.” 

However strange it was to hear Volddya judging papa’s 
choice so deliberately, I thought he was right. 

“ But why does papa marry ?” I asked. 

“That is a mysterious story, God knows. I only know 
that Peter Vasilevich advised him to marry and insisted 
upon it, and that papa did not want to, and then he took 
a fancy, — a kind of chivalry; it is a mysterious story. I 
have just begun to understand father,” continued Voldédya 
(it stung me to the quick to hear him say “father” instead 
of “papa”). “ He is a fine man, good and kind, but so friv- 
olous and changeabie — it is remarkable! He cannot look 
in cold blood at a woman. You know yourself, there is not 
a woman he knows with whom he is not in love. You 
know, Mimi too.” 

«You don’t say ?” 


410 YOUTH 


“T tell you I lately found out he was in love with 
Mimi when she was young, and he wrote her verses, and 
there was something between them.” And Volddya 
laughed. 

“Impossible!” I said in wonderment. 

«But the main thing,” continued Volddya, again seri- 
ously, and suddenly speaking in French, “all our relatives 
will be just delighted with this marriage! And, no 
doubt, she will have children.” 

I was so impressed by Volddya’s common sense and 
foresight, that I did not know what to reply. 

Just then Lytibochka stepped up to us. 

“So you know ?” she asked, with a happy face. 

“ Yes,” said Volédya, “only I wonder, Lytibochka, — 
you are not a baby in swaddling-clothes: what joy can it 
be for you that papa is to marry a slut ?” 

Lytibochka suddenly looked serious, and fell to thinking. 

“Volédya, why slut? How dare you speak thus of 
Avdétya Vasilevna? If papa marries her, she cannot 
be a slut.” 

“ Well, not a slut ; I was just saying that, still —” 

“Don’t say ‘still’” Lytbochka interrupted him, ex- 
citedly. «I did not say that the young lady with whom 
you were in love was a slut. How can you speak thus 
of papa and of an excellent woman? Though you are 
the eldest brother, you must not talk this way to me.” 

“But why may one not discuss —” 

“You dare not discuss,” Lytibochka again interrupted 
him. “You dare not discuss such a father as ours. 
Mimi may, but not you, our elder brother.” 

“No, you do not understand anything yet,” said 
Volédya, contemptuously. “Well, is it good that a 
Duinichka Epifdnov should take the place of your deceased 
mamma ?” 

Lytibochka grew silent for a moment, and suddenly 
tears appeared in her eyes. 


HOW WE RECEIVED THE NEWS 41] 


“T knew that you were haughty, but I did not think 
you would be quite so bad,” she said, and went away 
from us. 

“Into the roll,” said Volédya, with a serio-comic face 
and dull eyes. “Go and discuss with them,” he con- 
tinued, as if in self-reproach for having forgotten himself 
so far as to condescend to talk to Lytibochka. 

The next day the weather was bad, and neither papa 
nor the ladies were down to tea, when I walked into the 
drawing-room. In the night there had been a cold 
autumn drizzle; over the sky scudded the remainders of 
the cloud which had been exhausted in the night, and 
the sun, which stood quite high in the heavens, glim- 
mered faintly through it. It was windy, damp, and 
chilly. The door into the garden was open; on the floor 
of the terrace, black with the dampness, were drying up 
some puddles of the night rain. The open door, driven 
by the wind, tugged at the iron hook; the paths were 
damp and dirty; the old birches with their bared white 
boughs, the shrubs and the grass, the nettles, the currant 
bushes, and the elders, with the pale sides of the leaves 
turned outwards, swayed in one spot and seemed to be 
anxious to tear themselves away from their roots; from 
the linden avenue came flying round yellow leaves, 
whirling and racing against each other, and, when they 
grew wet, lodging in the moist path and in the moist, 
dark green aftermath of the meadow. 

My thoughts were busy with the coming marriage of 
my father, considering it from the same point of view 
as Volédya. The future of my sister, of ourselves, 
and of father did not present itself encouragingly to me. 
I was provoked at the thought that a strange, but espe- 
cially, a “ young” woman, who had no such rights, would 
suddenly in many respects take the place of — whom ? — 
a mere “young” woman would take the place of my 
deceased mother! I was aggrieved, and father seemed 


412 YOUTH 


ever more blameworthy. Just then I heard his and 
Volédya’s voice in the officiating-room. I did not wish 
to see father at that moment, and walked away from 
the door; but Lyubochka came after me, and told me 
that father wanted to see me. 

He was standing in the drawing-room, leaning with his 
hand on the piano, and impatiently and at the same 
time solemnly looked in my direction. On his face was 
no longer that expression of youth and happiness which 
I had observed heretofore in him. He looked sad. 
Volédya walked up and down the room, with his pipe 
in his hand. I went up to father and saluted him. 

“Well, my friends,” he said, with firmness, raising his 
head, and speaking in that very rapid tone with which 
one tells obviously unpleasant things that are past delib- 
eration, “you know, I think, that I am about to marry 
Avdétya Vasilevna.” He was silent for a moment. “I 
did not wish to marry again after your mamma, but” — 
he stopped for a minute — “ but — it is evidently my fate. 
Dunichka is a good and dear girl, and not very young; 
I hope you will love her, children, for she already loves 
you with all her heart, she is so good. It is time for 
you,” he said, turning to me and Volddya, and speaking 
rapidly that we might not interrupt him, “it is time for 
you to depart, but I shall stay here until New Year's, 
and then shall come to Moscow,” —he again hesitated, 
— “with my wife and with Lytibochka.” It was painful 
for me to see father feeling ill at ease and guilty before 
us; I walked up to him, but Voldédya continued to smoke 
and, lowering his head, paced the room. 

“So here is, my friends, what your old father has 
concocted,” concluded papa, blushing, coughing, and giving 
his hand to me and to Volédya. There were tears in his 
eyes, when: he said that, and the hand which he stretched 
out to Volédya, who was at that time at the other end of 
the room, trembled a little, I noticed. I was painfully 


HOW WE RECEIVED THE NEWS Als 


impressed by the sight of that trembling hand, and the 
odd thought came to me, which affected me even more, 
that papa had served in the year ’12, and had, no 
doubt, been a brave officer. I held his large venous 
hand, and kissed it. He pressed mine firmly, and sud- 
denly, sobbing through his tears, took Lyvitbochka’s black 
head into both his hands and began to kiss her eyes. 
Volédya pretended that he had dropped his pipe and, 
bending down, softly wiped his eyes with his clenched 
hand and, wishing to remain unnoticed, left the room. 


XXXVL 
THE UNIVERSITY 


THE wedding was to come off in two weeks; but 
lectures at the university were to begin soon, and Volédya 
and I left for Moscow in the beginning of September. 
The Nekhlytidovs had also come back from the country. 
Dmitri, with whom I had promised at parting to corre- 
spond, and with whom, of course, I had not exchanged 
one letter, immediately came to see me, and we decided 
that he should take me on the morrow to the university 
to introduce me to my lectures. 

It was a bright, sunny day. 

The moment I entered the auditorium, I felt that my 
personality disappeared in the mass of young, happy 
faces which billowed through the door and in the 
corridors, in the bright sunlight that penetrated through 
the large windows. The consciousness of belonging to 
that great society was an agreeable feeling. Among these 
many faces I found but few acquaintances, and with 
these my acquaintance was limited to a shake of the 
head and the words, “Good morning, Irténev!” All 
about me, hands were pressed, and the crowd surged, and 
words of friendship, smiles, civilities, and jokes were 
showered on all sides. I felt the common bond that 
united all that young society, and sorrowfully observed 
that that bond had slighted me. But this was only a 


momentary impression. In consequence of this impres- 
414 











ECO wO02O Ita pile tede op 


\ 


XXXVI 
THE UNIVERSITY 


Tae wedding was to come off in two weeks; but 
lectures at the university were to begin secu, and Volddya 
and I left for Moscow in the beginning of September. 
The Nekhlytdovs had also come back from the country. 
Jomitri, with whom [ had promised at parting to corre- 
spond, and with wl.om, of course, I had not exchanged 
one letter, immediately came to see me, and we decided 
that he should take me on the morrow to the university 
io introduce me to my lectures 

It was a bright, sunny day. 

The moment I entered the auditorium, ! tlt that rey 
rersonality disappeared in the mass of young, hajipy 
faces which billowed through the door and in the 
corridors, iu the uright sunlight that penetrated through 
the large windows, The consciousness of belonging to 
that great society was an agreeabic feehnug. Among these 
many faces I found tut few acquaintances, and with 
vse my acquaintance was hmited to a shake of the 

id and the were< ~tsood morning, Irténev!” All 

ui me, hands wore pressed, and the crowd surged, and 

surd of friendship, smiles, civilities, and jokes were 

" y .4 on all sides. I felt the common bond that 

cote «) that young society, and sorrowfully observed 

hal tat is nd had slighted me. But this was only a 

lacoucniary iinptestion. In consequence of this impres- 
414 








The Kremlin at Moscow in 1823 


Pinvieracure from Engraving by Lavrcev 








THE UNIVERSITY 415 


sion, and of the mortification generated by it, I soon 
found, on the contrary, that it was very good indeed I 
did not belong to that society, that I ought to have 
a circle of my own, of decent people, and seated myself 
on the third bench, where sat Count B , Baron Z 
Prince R , {vin and other gentlemen of that class, of 
whom I knew only fvin and Count B These gentle- 
men, however, looked at me in such a manner that I felt 
I did not quite belong to their society. I began to observe 
everything that took place round me. Seménov, with his 
gray, dishevelled hair and white teeth, and in his un- 
buttoned coat, sat not far from me, leaning on his elbows, 
and chewing at a pen. The Gymnasiast, who had passed 
the examinations as first, sat on the first bench, his cheek 
still tied up with a black necktie, and played with the 
silver watch-key on his velvet vest. Ikénin, who had 
managed to get into the university, sat on a desk in his 
blue striped pantaloons that covered his whole boot, and 
laughed and cried that he was on Parnassus. Ilinka, 
who, to my astonishment, bowed to me not only coldly 
but contemptuously, as if to remind me that we were 
all equals here, sat in front of me and, placing his lean 
legs carelessly on the bench (this, I thought, he did on 
my account), conversed with another student, and now 
and then glanced at me. {vin’s company near me spoke 
French. These gentlemen seemed uncommonly stupid 
to me. Every word which I caught from their conver- 
sation seemed to me not only insipid, but even incorrect, 
simply not French (“ Ce west pas frangais,’ I said men- 
tally to myself), but the attitudes, speeches, and acts of 
Seménov, Ilfnka, and others appeared to me ignoble, 
indecent, not comme il faut. 

I belonged to no circle, and grew angry, because I felt 
myself lonely and incapable of making friends. A stu- 
dent in front of me was biting his nails which were full 
of red slivers, and that so disgusted me that I changed 














416 YOUTH 


my seat some distance away from him. On that first 
day, I remember, I felt quite sad. 

When the professor entered, and everybody stirred and 
grew silent, I remember how I extended my satirical 
glance to him, and how the professor began his lecture 
with an introductory sentence in which I could see no 
sense whatsoever. I wanted the lecture to be so clever 
from the beginning to the end that it should be impossi- 
ble to throw anything out, or add another word to it. 
Being disappointed in this, I immediately set out to make 
eighteen profiles, connected into a circle in the shape of a 
flower, beneath the title “ First Lecture” of the beautifully 
bound note-book which I had brought with me; I only 
occasionally pretended to be writing, so that the profes- 
sor, who I was sure was very much interested in me, 
might think that I was taking down notes. Having 
decided at this lecture that it was not necessary, and even 
was stupid, to write out all the professor said, I observed 
this rule to the end of my course. 

At the next lectures I did not feel my loneliness so 
much, for I had become acquainted with a number of 
students whose hands I pressed and with whom I talked ; 
but for some reason or other no close relations were es- 
tablished between my companions and me, and I was fre- 
quently given to melancholy and feigning. I could not 
be on a friendly footing with fvin’s company and the 
aristocrats, as everybody called them, because, as I now 
remember, I was savage and rude with them, and bowed 
to them only after they had saluted me, and they evi- 
dently had little need of my acquaintance. With the 
majority, however, this originated from an entirely differ- 
ent cause. The moment I felt that a fellow student was 
taking kindly to me, I gave him to understand that I 
dined with Prince Iv4n Ivdnovich, and that I had a 
vehicle of my own. I said all that in order to show 
myself from my most advantageous side, and that my 


THE UNIVERSITY 417 


companion should like me better still; but nearly every 
time, as soon as I had informed my companion of my 
relationship with Prince Ivén Ivdnovich and of my vehi- 
cle, he suddenly, to my amazement, became haughty and 
cold to me. . 

We had a stipendiary student, Operov, a modest, ex- 
tremely talented, and industrious young man, who always 
gave his stiff hand like a board, without bending his 
fingers, and making no motion with it, so that his jesting 
fellow students gave him their hands in the same man- 
ner, and called that kind of a hand-shake the “board 
handshake.” I nearly always sat down by his side, and 
frequently conversed with him. I liked Operov more 
especially for his free opinions about the professors. He 
very clearly and distinctly defined the merits and faults 
of each professor’s instruction, and at times even made 
fun of them, all of which being uttered with his soft voice 
issuing from his tiny mouth affected me very strangely 
and powerfully. In spite of this, he continued to take 
down all the lectures without exception, writing them out 
carefully in a fine hand. We were becoming friendly, and 
decided to prepare our lectures together, and his small, 
gray, near-sighted eyes were beginning to turn to me with 
an expression of pleasure, whenever I came to take my 
seat near him. But I found it necessary, in talking with 
him, to let him know that my mother, dying, had asked 
father not to send us to a public school, and that all the 
stipendiary students might be very wise men, but not 
the people for me —not the right class of people. “ Ce ne 
sont pas des gens comme i faut,” I said, stammering and 
feeling that I was blushing. Operov said nothing to me, 
but at the next lectures did not salute me first, did not 
give me his “ board,” did not converse, and when I took 
my seat, bent his head sidewise, a finger’s length away 
from his note-books, and pretended to be looking into 
them. I wondered at Operov’s causeless coolness. As a 


418 YOUTH 


jeune homme de bonne maison I considered it improper to 
seek the favour of a stipendiary student Operov, and left 
him alone, though, I confess, his coolness mortified me. 
Once I arrived before him, and as it happened to be 
a lecture of a favourite professor, which was attended by 
students who were not in the habit of coming to their 
lectures regularly, all the places were occupied; so I 
seated myself in Operov’s seat, put my note-books on his 
desk, and walked out. When I returned to the lecture- 
room, I noticed that my books had been removed to a 
back desk, and that Operov was in my seat. I remarked 
to him that I had placed my books there. 

“T don’t know,” he answered, with sudden irritation 
and without looking at me. 

“JT am telling you that I placed my books there,” I 
said, purposely in anger, thinking that I might frighten 
him with my boldness. “Everybody saw it,” I added, 
looking round at the students, but though many gazed 
curiously at me, not one of them said anything. 

“There are no reserved seats here, and he who comes 
first takes one,” said Operov, angrily straightening him- 
self in his seat and for a moment looking at me with a 
provoked countenance. 

“That means that you are a boor,” I said. 

I thought that Operov mumbled something, and I think 
it was, “ And you are a silly boy!” but I did not hear it 
at all. And what use would it have been for me to have 
heard it? Just to call each other names, like manants ? 
(I was very fond of that word “manazt,” and it served 
me asan answer and solution to many puzzling relations.) 
I might have said something else to him, but just then 
the door slammed, and the professor in his blue uniform, 
shuffling his feet, rapidly walked up to his platform. 

And yet, before the examinations, when I needed some 
note-books, Operov, mindful of his promise, offered me 
his, and invited me to study with him. 


ASAVIT 
AFFAIRS OF THE HEART 


AT that time I was much occupied with affairs of the 
heart. I was three times in love. Once I became pas- 
sionately enamoured of a very stout lady who used to ride 
in Freitag’s Manege; every Tuesday and Friday, when she 
frequented it, I went there to get a glimpse of her, but I 
was every time so afraid that she would see me, and, 
therefore, stood so far away from her and ran away so 
fast when she was about to pass by me, and so rudely 
turned aside when she looked in my direction, that I 
never got a good look at her face, and never found out 
whether she was really pretty or not. 

Dubkév, who knew the lady, having discovered me 
once in the Manege, where I stood concealed behind the 
lackeys and the furs which they held, and having learned 
from Dmitri of my infatuation, so frightened me with his 
proposition to introduce me to that Amazon, that I rushed 
headlong out of the place, and at the mere thought that 
he told her about me, never again dared enter the Manege, 
not even behind the lackeys, for fear of meeting her. 

Whenever I was in love with strange, particularly 
married, women, I was seized by fits of bashfulness a 
thousand times stronger than what I experienced before 
Sénichka. I feared nothing so much in the world as that 
the object of my love should find out about my love and 
even of my existence. It appeared to me that if she 


should learn of the feeling which I had for her, it would 
10. 


420 YOUTH 


be such an insult to her that she could never forgive me. 
And indeed, if that Amazon had. known in detail how 
I watched her from behind the lackeys, and imagined 
raping her and taking her to the country, and how I was 
going to live with her there, and what I was going to do 
with her, she no doubt would have been justly insulted. 
I could not form a clear conception of her knowing me 
without knowing at once all my thoughts of her, and 
therefore I could not imagine there was nothing disgrace- 
ful in an acquaintance with her. 

Another time I fell in love with Sdénichka, upon seeing 
her with my sister. My second love for her had passed 
long ago, but I became enamoured of her for the third 
time, when Lytibochka gave me a copy-book of verses, 
copied by Sénichka, in which Lérmontov’s “ Demon” was 
in many gloomy passages of love underlined with red 
ink, and marked with little flowers. I recalled that 
Volédya had the year before kissed the purse of his lady- 
love, and so I tried to do the same, and really, when I 
was one evening all alone in my room and, looking at a 
little flower, began to meditate and put it to my lips, I 
experienced a certain pleasurable and tearful sensation, 
and was again in love, or supposed I was, for a few days. 

Finally, for the third time that winter I was enam- 
oured of a young lady with whom Voldédya was in love, 
and who visited us. In that young lady, as I now 
remember, there was absolutely nothing beautiful, par- 
ticularly of that kind of beauty which I admired. She 
was the daughter of a well-known, clever, and learned 
lady of Moscow, and was small, haggard, with long Eng- 
lish locks, and a translucent profile. Everybody said that 
she was even more clever and learned than her mother, 
but I was entirely unable to judge of that, because I felt 
such a servile terror at the thought of her cleverness and 
learning that I dared but once to speak to her, with inde- 
scribable trepidation. But the ecstasy of Volédya, who 


AFFAIRS OF THE HEART 421 


was never incommoded by the presence of others in giv- 
ing vent to that ecstasy, was communicated to me with 
such force that I fell passionately in love with the lady. 
I did not tell Volédya of my love, being convinced that it 
would not please him very much to hear that “two 
brothers were in love with the same maiden.” The chief 
pleasure I derived from this infatuation consisted in the 
thought that our love was so pure that, in spite of the 
fact that its object was one and the same charming 
creature, we remained friends and ever ready to make 
sacrifices for each other, if the opportunity offered itself. 
However, Voléddya did not quite share my opinion of the 
ever ready sacrifice, for he was so passionately in love 
that he wanted to box the ears of, and call out to a duel 
a certain real diplomat who, it was said, was about to 
marry her. But it pleased me very much to be able to 
sacrifice my feeling, perhaps, because it did not cost me 
much labour, having but once held with her a bombastic 
discourse about the value of classical music,— and my 
love, however much I tried to sustain it, was dispersed 
the following day. 


XXXVIIL. 
SOCIETY 


THE social pleasures which I had dreamt of taking up, 
upon entering the university, in emulation of my elder 
brother, completely disenchanted me that winter. Vold- 
dya danced a great deal, and papa also drove out to balls 
with his young wife, but I was considered either too 
young, or unfit for such enjoyments, and nobody intro- 
duced me in those houses where balls were given. In 
spite of my vow of frankness with Dmitri, I told nobody, 
not even him, how anxious I was to attend balls, and 
how it mortified and angered me that they forgot me and 
apparently regarded me asa kind of a philosopher, so that 
in consequence thereof, I tried to appear like one. 

That winter there was a reception at the house of Prin- 
cess Korndkov. She personally invited us all, including 
me, and I went for the first time to a ball. Voldédya 
came into my room before we were to start, and wanted 
to see me dressed. This act of his greatly surprised and 
puzzled me. It seemed to me that the desire always to be 
well dressed was blameworthy, and had to be concealed ; 
but he, on the contrary, regarded this desire as so natural 
and necessary that he said quite openly that he was afraid 
I should disgrace myself. He ordered me to put on 
lacquered boots, was horrified when I wanted to put on 
chamois-leather gloves, fixed my watch in a particular 
manner, and took me to Blacksmith Bridge to a hair- 
dresser. They curled my hair. Volddya stood off and 


looked at me from a distance. 
422 


SOCIETY 423 


“ Now it is all right, but can’t you really smooth down 
those tufts of his?” he said, turning to the hair-dresser. 

But no matter how much Monsieur Charles smeared 
my tufts with a sticky essence, they rose again when I 
put on my hat, and my whole curled head looked worse 
to me than before. My only salvation lay in an affecta- 
tion of carelessness. Only under such conditions did my 
exterior look like something. 

Volédya, it seems, was of the same opinion, for he 
asked me to undo the curls, and when I did so and the 
effect still was bad, he no longer looked at me, and all 
the way to the Korndkovs was incommunicative and 
melancholy. 

Volédya and I entered the house of the Korndkovs 
boldly ; but when the princess invited me to dance, and I, 
who had come with this one aim in view, told her that 
I did not dance, I lost my courage and, remaining all 
alone among strange people, fell into my unconquerable, 
ever increasing bashfulness. I stood silently all the even- 
ing in one place. 

During a waltz one of the young princesses walked up 
to me and asked me, with the official civility of her fam- 
ily, why I did not dance. I remember how I was put 
out by the question, and how, entirely against my will, a 
self-satisfied smile covered my face, and I began to tell 
her in French, with high-flown turns and introductory 
phrases, such dreadful nonsense that even now, after tens 
of years, I have to blush when I think of it. It must be 
that the music so affected me, by exciting my nerves, and 
drowning, as I supposed, the less intelligible parts of my 
speech. I said something or other about high life, about 
the emptiness of men and women, and finally was so 
completely lost in a maze of words, that I had to stop in 
the middle of a sentence which it was utterly impossible 
to finish. 

Even the thoroughbred worldly princess was put out of 


424 YOUTH 


countenance, and reproachfully looked at me. I smiled. 
At this critical moment Volddya, seeing that I was speak- 
ing excitedly, and, no doubt, wishing to know how I 
explained away my refusal to dance, walked up to us 
with Dubkév. When he saw my smiling countenance 
and the frightened expression of the princess, and heard 
the awful bosh with which I ended my discourse, he 
blushed and turned away. The princess rose and walked 
off. I was smiling, but suffered sc terribly from the con- 
sciousness of my stupidity that I was ready to go through 
the floor, and felt the necessity of stirring about and say- 
ing something, in order to change my situation in some 
manner. I went up to Dubkdév and asked him whether 
he had danced many dances with her. I pretended to be 
playful and merry, but in reality I implored aid of that 
very Dubkév whom I had told to shut up at the dinner 
at Yar’s. Dubkév looked as though he had not heard me 
and turned away in another direction. I moved up to 
Volédya, and said to him, with an expenditure of all my 
strength, endeavouring to give a playful tone to my voice, 
“Well, Volédya, are you tired?” But Volédya looked at 
me as much as to say, “ You do not speak to me that way 
when we are alone,” and silently walked away from me, 
apparently afraid that I might stick to him. 

“My Lord, even my brother abandons me!” I thought. 

I somehow did not have sufficient strength te leave. I 
stood sullen, in one spot, all during the evening, and only 
when all had congregated in the antechamber, ready to 
depart, and a lackey caught my overcoat on the edge of 
my hat, so that it rose, I laughed painfully through tears 
and, without addressing anybody in particular, said, 
“Comme cest gracieux !” 


XX XIX, 
A CAROUSAL 


ALTHOUGH, under Dwitri’s influence, I did not yet 
abandon myself to the common student enjoyments which 
are called “carousals,” I had occasion to be present at 
such an entertainment that winter, but I carried away 
from it a rather unpleasant sensation. It happened lke 
this. 

In the beginning of the year Baron Z , a tall, blond 
young man, with a very solemn expression on his face, 
invited us all, at a lecture, to his house for a sociable 
evening. When I say all of us, I mean all the fellow 
students of our course who were more or less comme a 
feut, and among whom, of course, were neither Grap, nor 
Seménov, nor Operov, nor any of those insignificant gen- 
tlemen. Voldédya smiled contemptuously when he heard 
that I was going to a carousal of the first year students, 
but I expected an unusual and intense pleasure from this 
entirely unfamiliar pastime, and punctually at the ap- 
pointed time, at eight o’clock, I was at the house of 
Baron Z : 

Baron Z , In an unbuttoned coat and white waist- 
coat, received his guests in the lighted parlour and draw- 
ing-room of the small house in which his parents lived, 
who, on the occasion of the celebration, had granted him 
the use of the reception-rooms. In the corridor could be 
seen the heads and dresses of curious maids, and in the 


buffet-room flashed by the dress of a lady whom I took 
425 











426 YOUTH 


for the baroness. There were some twenty guests, all of 
them students except Mr. Frost, who had come with Ivin, 
and one tall, red-faced private gentleman who had charge 
of the celebration, and who was introduced to all as a 
relative of the baron, and a former student of the uni- 
versity of Dorpat. The extremely bright illumination 
and the usual, conventional outfit of the reception- 
rooms at first acted so chillingly upon that youthful com- 
pany that all kept close to the wall, except a few bolder 
fellows and the Dorpat student, who, having unbuttoned 
his waistcoat, seemed to be at the same time in every 
room, and in every corner of every room, and filled the 
whole room with his sonorous, agreeable, and continuous 
tenor voice. The other students were mostly silent, or 
modestly discussed their professors, the sciences, exami- 
nations, in general, serious matters. Everybody without 
exception watched the door of the buffet-room, and, 
though trying to conceal it, bore an expression which 
said, “ Well, it is time to begin.” I myself felt that it was 
time to begin, and waited for the beginning with impatient 
joy. 
After tea, which the lackeys served to the guests, the 
Dorpat student asked Frost, in Russian : 

“ Dost thou know how to make the punch, Frost ?” 

“O ja!” answered Frost, moving his calves, but the 
Dorpat student again said to him in Russian: 

« Then take it into thine hands” (they spoke “ thou” to 
each other, as schoolmates of the Dorpat University), and 
Frost, taking a few long steps with his bent muscular legs, 
began to pass from the drawing-room to the buffet-room 
and back again, and soon there appeared on the table a 
large bowl with a ten-pound head of sugar in it, held in 
place by three crossed student swords. Baron Z in 
the meantime walked up to all the guests who had gathered 
in the drawing-room and were looking at the bowl, and 
with an unchangeable solemn face repeated nearly the 





A CAROUSAL 427 


same thing: “Gentlemen, let us drink in student fashion 
the round bowl, ‘ Bruderschaft, for there is no comrade- 
ship in our course. Why don’t you unbutton your coats, 
or take them off entirely, just as he has done?” And, 
indeed, the Dorpat student, having taken off his coat 
and rolled up his white shirt-sleeves above his elbows, and 
firmly planted his legs, was already burning the rum in 
the bowl. 

“Gentlemen, put out the lights!” suddenly cried the 
Dorpat student as loud and sonorously as if we all were 
crying together. But we looked in silence at the bowl 
and at the white shirt of the Dorpat student, and all felt 
that the solemn moment had arrived. 

“« Ldschen Ste die Iichter aus, Frost!” again cried the 
Dorpat student, this time in German, probably because he 
was quite excited. Frost and the rest of us began to blow 
out the lights. The room grew dark, and only the white 
shirt-sleeves and hands that supported the head of sugar 
with the swords were lighted up by the bluish flame. 
The loud tenor of the Dorpat student was no longer the 
only one, for they were talking and laughing in all the 
corners of the room. Many took off their coats (especially 
those who had fine linen, and very white shirts), and I 
did the same, and knew that now it was beginning. 
Although there was nothing merry as yet, I was quite 
convinced that it would be nice as soon as we should 
drink a glass of the brewing drink. 

The drink was prepared. The Dorpat student poured 
out the punch in glasses, spilling a great deal on the table, 
and called out: “Now, gentlemen, come on!” When we 
all had well-filled sticky glasses in our hands, the Dorpat 
student and Frost sang a German song, in which the 
exclamation “ Juchhe!” was frequently repeated. We 
sang with them as best we could, clinked our glasses, 
praised the punch, and, crossing hands with each other, or 
in simple fashion, began to drink the sweet, strong liquid. 


428 YOUTH 


There was nothing more to wait for, — the carousal was 
in full swing. 

I emptied a whole glass; they filled another for me; 
the blood beat strongly in my temples; the light looked 
blood-red to me ; everybody around me laughed and cried, 
and yet it not only seemed not jolly to me, but I was even 
convinced that all of us suffered ennui, and that we merely 
found it necessary to pretend that it all was very jolly. 
The Dorpat student was probably the only one who did 
not feign: he grew ever more bloodshot and ubiquitous, 
filled everybody’s empty glasses, and spilled more and 
more on the table, which finally grew all sticky and 
sweet. 

I do not remember everything that happened, or in 
what order, but I recall that I was that evening awfully 
fond of that Dorpat student and of Frost, learned by heart 
the German song, and kissed their sweet lips; I also 
recollect that on that same evening I hated the Dorpat 
student, and wanted to bang him with a chair, but 
restrained myself; I recollect that, in addition to the feel- 
ing of disobedience of all my limbs, which I had experi- 
enced at the dinner at Yar’s, my head ached and whirled 
in such a terrible manner that I was dreadfully afraid I 
should die right off; I also recollect that we all seated 
ourselves for some reason on the floor, waved our hands, 
imitating the motion of oars, and sang “ Down our mother 
Vélga,” and that I thought all the time that it was not 
necessary to do all this; I recollect also that, lying on the 
floor, my legs caught in somebody’s, and I fought with 
him in gipsy fashion and sprained his neck, whereat I 
thought that it would not have happened if he had not 
been drunk; I recollect also that we had supper, and 
drank something else, that I went outside to cool off, that 
my head felt cold, and that, at parting, I noticed that it 
was dreadfully dark, that the foot-rest of the vehicle had 
in the meanwhile become crooked and sleek, and that it 


A CAROUSAL 429 


was not possible to hold on to Kuzma, because he was 
very weak and flaunted like a rag; but, above all, I recol- 
lect that during that evening I never stopped feeling that 
I acted very foolishly, pretending that it was jolly, that I 
liked to drink much, and that I never thought of being 
drunk, and I also felt that the rest were acting just as 
foolishly when they pretended the same. I thought that 
each one in particular was just as dissatisfied as I, but 
that he supposed that he alone experienced that unpleasant 
sensation, and, consequently, regarded it as his duty to 
pretend to be merry, in order not to impair the general 
merriment ; besides, though it may seem strange, I con- 
sidered it my duty to pretend, for the reason alone, if for 
no other, that into that bowl had been poured three bottles 
of champagne, at ten roubles, and ten bottles of rum, at 
four roubles, which made in all seventy roubles, not 
counting the supper. I was so convinced of it, that next 
day I was exceedingly surprised during the lecture, when 
my companions, who had been present at the entertain- 
ment of Baron Z , not only were not ashamed of what 
they had done there, but told of it in such a manner that 
the other students might hear it. They said that the 
carousal was fine, that the Dorpat boys were great at it, 
and that the twenty students had drunk forty bottles of 
rum, and that many of them were left for dead under the 
table. I could not understand why they should tell, and 
moreover lie, about themselves. 





XL. 
MY FRIENDSHIP WITH THE NEKHLYODOVS 


THAT winter I frequently saw not only Dmitri, who 
was in the habit of visiting us, but also his whole family, 
with whom I was getting better acquainted. 

The Nekhlytidovs, mother, aunt, and daughter, passed 
all their evenings at home, and the princess was fond of 
having young people come to see them in the evening, 
that is, men who, she said, were able to pass a whole 
evening without cards or dancing. There must have 
been a dearth of such men, because I rarely saw any guests 
there, though I called nearly every day. I grew accus- 
tomed to the members of that family, and to their various 
dispositions, formed a clear conception of their mutual 
relations, got used to the rooms and furniture, and, when 
there were no guests, felt perfectly at ease, except when 
I was left alone with Vdrenka. It always seemed to me 
that she was not a very pretty girl, and that she was 
exceedingly anxious that I should fall in love with her. 
But this embarrassment, too, soon began to pass away. 
She was so unconstrained in her manner, whether she 
talked to me, to her brother, or to Lyubév Sergyéevna, 
that I acquired the habit of looking at her simply as at a 
person to whom it was neither disgraceful nor dangerous 
to express the pleasure which her company afforded. 
During all the time of my acquaintance with her, she 
appeared on certain days very homely, while on others I 
thought she was not so ill-looking, but it never occurred 


to me to ask myself whether I was in love with her, or 
430 


MY FRIENDSHIP WITH THE NEKHLYUpovs 431 


not. I had occasion to speak to her directly, but more 
often I conversed with her by addressing Lyubdv Sergyé- 
evna or Dmitri, and this latter method gave me especial 
pleasure. It was a great pleasure for me to speak in her 
presence, to listen to her singing, and in general to know 
that she was in the room while [ was there. I was now 
rarely worried by the thought what my relations to 
Varenka would be in the future, and by the dreams of 
self-sacrifice for my friend if he should fall in love with 
my sister. And if such thoughts and dreams did come 
to me, I felt myself sufficiently contented in the present, 
and unconsciously warded off the thoughts of the future. 

In spite of this closer acquaintance, I continued to 
regard it as my invariable duty to conceal my real senti- 
ments and inclinations from all the family of the Nekh- 
lyudovs, and especially from Varenka, and endeavoured 
to pass for an entirely different young man from what I 
really was, and even to appear like one who could not 
have any existence in reality. I tried to appear impas- 
sioned, went into ecstasies, sighed, and made passionate 
gestures, whenever I wanted to express my great pleasure, 
and at the same time attempted to appear indifferent to 
every extraordinary occurrence which I had witnessed, or 
of which they told me; tried to appear a malicious jester 
for whom there was nothing holy, and at the same time 
a shrewd observer; tried to appear logical in all my acts, 
precise and punctual in the affairs of life, and at the same 
time contemptuous of everything of a material nature. I 
may say I wasa much better man in reality than that odd 
creature which I endeavoured to represent, but even such 
as I pretended to be, the Nekhlytidovs were fond of me 
and, to my good fortune, had, I think, no faith in my pre- 
tensions. Only Lyubdév Sergyéevna, who considered me 
as a great egotist, blasphemer, and cynic, I think, did not 
like me, and frequently quarrelled with me, grew angry, 
and tried to vanquish me with her fragmentary, inco- 


432 YOUTH 


herent phrases. But Dmitri remained in the same strange, 
more than friendly relations with her, and said that 
nobody understood her, and that she was doing him a 
great deal of good. His friendship for her continued to 
grieve the family as before. 

Once Vdrenka, who was discussing with me that incom- 
prehensible relation, explained it thus: 

“ Dmitri is egotistical. He is too proud, and, in spite 
of his good mind, is very fond of praise and admiration, and 
likes always to be first, while aunty, in the innocence of 
her soul, worships him, and has not enough tact to con- 
ceal that admiration for him, so that in reality she flatters 
him, only not feignedly, but sincerely.” 

This reflection impressed itself upon my memory, and 
when I later analyzed it, I could not help thinking that 
Vdrenka was a very clever girl, and, in consequence, with 
pleasure raised her in my opinion. As the result of the 
discovery of mind and other moral qualities in her, I fre- 
quently advanced her thus, with pleasure, but with a cer- 
tain austere moderation, and never rose to ecstasy, which 
is the extreme point of this advancement. Thus, when 
Séfya Ivdnovna, who never stopped talking about her niece, 
told me that Varenka, four years ago, while in the country, 
had without permission given away all her clothes and 
shoes to the village children, so that it was necessary to 
gather them up again, I did not at once accept the fact as 
worthy of advancing her in my opinion, but mentally 
made fun of her for such an impractical view of things. 

When there were guests at the Nekhlytidovs, among 
them sometimes Voléddya and Dubkév, I retreated, with 
self-satisfaction and with a certain calm consciousness of 
being a friend of the family, to the background, did not 
take part in the conversation, and only listened to what 
was said. And everything that others said seemed to me 
so incomprehensibly stupid that I wondered mentally 
how such a clever and logical woman as the princess, and 


MY FRIENDSHIP WITH THE NEKHLYUpDovs 433 


all her logical family, could listen to all those stupid 
things, and reply to them. If it had occurred to me 
then to compare with what the others said that which I 
said when I was alone, I, no doubt, should not have been 
surprised. Still less should I have been surprised if I 
had come to believe that our own family — Avddtya 
Vasilevna, Lytibochka, and Katenka — were just such 
women as the rest, by no means lower than others, and if 
IT had recalled what it was Dubkdév, Katenka, and Avdé- 
tya Vasilevna talked about for whole evenings, smiling 
merrily, and how, nearly every time, Dubkév, stickling 
for something, read with feeling the verses, “ Aw banquet 
de la vie, infortune convive,” or extracts from the “ Demon,” 
and, in general, with what pleasure they uttered all kinds 
of nonsense for hours at a time. 

Of course, when guests were present, Vaérenka paid less 
attention to me than when we were alone, and, besides, 
there was no reading, and no music, which I liked to hear so 
much. When she spoke to the guests she lost her chief 
charm for me,—her calm thoughtfulness and simplicity. 
I remember how strangely I was impressed by the con- 
versation about the theatre and the weather, which she 
held with my brother Volédya. I knew that Volddya 
more than anything avoided and abhorred banality, and 
that Varenka also was in the habit of making fun of the 
quasi-entertaining conversations about the weather, and 
so forth; then why did they, upon meeting, eternally 
utter the most unbearable commonplaces, and as if 
ashamed of each other? After every conversation of this 
kind I was silently provoked with Vdrenka, and the fol- 
lowing day made fun of the guests, and after that I found 
even more pleasure in being alone in the family circle of 
the Nekhlytidovs. 

However it may be, I began to derive more enjoyment 
from being with Dmitri in the drawing-room of his 
mother than from being all alone with him. 


DE DF 
MY FRIENDSHIP WITH NEKHLYUDOV 


AT this period my friendship with Dmitri was sus- 
pended by ahair. I had begun long ago to pass judgment 
on him, in order to discover his faults; but in our first 
youth we love only passionately, and, therefore, we love 
only perfect men. But the moment the mist of passion 
begins to scatter, or the bright beams of reason begin 
involuntarily to burst through it, and we see the object of 
our passion in its real aspect, with its good and bad 
qualities, the bad qualities, like something unexpected, 
appear magnified and dazzle our eyes; the feeling of 
novelty and of hope that perfection in another man is 
possible encourages us not only to cool off toward, but 
even to turn away from, the former object of our passion ; 
and we cast it off without regret, and rush forward to 
seek a new perfection. If the same thing did not happen 
in my relation to Dmitri, I owed it to his stubborn, 
pedantic, mental, rather than spiritual, attachment, which 
I should have felt ashamed to betray. In addition, we 
were united by our strange rule of frankness. When we 
parted from each other we were afraid to leave all the 
outrageous moral secrets of our confidences in the power 
of the other. However, our rule of frankness was evi- 
dently not always observed, and frequently embarrassed us, 
and produced strange relations between us. 

Nearly every time when I called that winter on Dmitri, 
I found his classmate, Bezobyédov, with whom he studied. 

434 


MY FRIENDSHIP WITH NEKHLYUDOV 435 


Bezobyédov was a small, pockmarked, lean young man, 
with tiny, freckled hands, and very long, unkempt hair, 
always ragged, dirty, uncultured, and even a poor student. 
Dinitri’s relations with him were as inscrutable to me as 
those with Lyubév Sergyéevna. The only cause for his 
selecting him from among all his classmates and being 
friendly with him was that a worse-looking student could 
not be found in the whole university. Dmitri, no doubt, 
found a special delight in being friendly with him, in 
order to spite everybody. In all his relations with that 
student was expressed the haughty feeling, “ It is all the 
same to me who you are, and I do not care for what 
others say; I like him, consequently he is all right.” 

I marvelled how he could constrain himself so much, 
and how unfortunate Bezobyédov was able to endure his 
awkward situation. I was very much displeased with 
that friendship. 

I once called on Dmitri in the evening, in order to 
spend the time with him in his mother’s drawing-room, 
to chat, and to listen to Vdrenka’s singing and reading. 
Bezobyédov was up-stairs. Dmitri answered me in an 
abrupt voice that he could not go down, because, as I 
could see, he had a guest. 

“What pleasure is there in it, anyway?” he added. 
“ Let us sit here, and have a chat.” 

Although I was not at all delighted by the idea of 
staying two hours with Bezobyédov, I could not make up 
my mind to go down by myself into the drawing-room, 
and, inwardly provoked by my friend’s odd ties, sat down 
in a rocking-chair, and began to rock. I was very angry 
with Dmitri and Bezobyédov for depriving me of the 
pleasure of being down-stairs; I waited, hoping that 
Bezobyédov would soon leave, and was irritated at him 
and Dmitri, and listened in silence to their conversation. 

« A very agreeable guest! Stay with him!” I thought, 
when a lackey brought tea, and Dmitri had to ask Bezo- 


436 YOUTH 


byédov five times to take a glass, because his timid guest 
regarded it as his duty to decline the first and second 
glass, saying, “ Drink yourself!” Dmitri had evidently 
to force himself to entertain his guest with a conver- 
sation, into which he vainly tried to drag me. I kept 
sullen silence. 

« What’s to be done? I have such a countenance that 
no one would dare imagine I am suffering ennui.” I 
mentally turned to Dmitri, evenly rocking in my chair, 
in silence. I began, with a certain pleasure, to fan in 
myself an ever increasing feeling of quiet hatred for my 
friend. “What a fool,” I thought of him; “he might have 
passed an agreeable evening with his charming relatives, 
—no, he must stay here with that beast, and now the 
time is passing, and it will be too late to go to the draw- 
ing-room,” and I glanced at my friend past the edge of 
my chair. His hand, his attitude, his neck, and especially 
the back of his cranium and his knees seemed to me so 
disgusting and provoking, that I should have experienced 
a certain pleasure if at that moment I had said something 
very rude to him. 

Finally Bezobyédov rose, but Dmitri would not let his 
agreeable guest depart at once: he proposed to him to 
stay overnight, but, fortunately, Bezobyédov declined, 
and went away. 

Having taken him to the door, Dmitri returned and, 
softly smiling a self-satisfied smile and rubbing his hands, 
—no doubt, because he had sustained his character and 
because he was at last free from ennui, — began to pace 
the room, looking at me from time to time. He appeared 
still more disgusting to me. “How dare he walk and 
smile?” I thought. 

« What makes you so sullen?” he said, suddenly, stop- 
ping opposite me. 

“JT am not at all sullen,” I answered, as people always 
answer under these circumstances, “I am only annoyed 


MY FRIENDSHIP WITH NEKHLYUDOV 437 


because you dissemble, before me, before Bezobyédov, 
aud before yourself.” 

“What nonsense! I never dissemble before anybody. 

“Tam not forgetful of our rule of frankness, — I am 
telling you the truth. I am convinced,” I said, “ that this 
Bezobyédov is as unbearable to you as to me, for he is 
stupid, and God knows what, but you only put on airs 
before him.” 

“No! And, in the first place, Bezobyédov is a fine 
fellow —” 

«But I say, yes. And I tell you that your friendship 
with Lyubdv Sergyéevna is also based on the fact that she 
regards you as a god.” 

« But I tell you, no.” 

“And I say, yes, because I know it from my own 
experience,” I answered him, with the ardour of restrained 
annoyance, and trying to disarm him with my frankness. 
“T have told you so before, and I repeat it now, that it 
always seems to me that I love those people who tell me 
agreeable things, but when I examine myself closely, I 
find that there is no real attachment.” 

“ No,” continued Dmitri, correcting his necktie with an 
angry jerk of his neck, “when I love, neither praises nor 
chiding are able to change my feeling.” 

“Tt is not so. I have told you that when papa called 
me a good-for-nothing, I for some time hated him and 
wished his death; even thus you —” 

“Speak for yourself. I am sorry if you are such —” 

“On the contrary,” I cried, jumping up from my chair, 
and with desperate boldness looking into his eyes, “ what 
you say is wrong; did you not tell me about brother ? — 
I do not understand you in this, because it would be dis- 
honest, — did you not tell me?—-and I will tell you, 
since I now understand you — ” 

In my attempt to sting him more painfully than he had 
stung me, I began to prove to him that he loved nobody, 


” 


438 YOUTH 


and to reproach him for everything for which I thought IT 
had a right to blame him. I was very much satisfied at 
having told him all, and forgot that the only possible pur- 
pose of this reproach was to make him confess the faults 
of which I accused him, and that this aim could not be 
reached at that particular moment when he was excited. 
I never told him these things when he was calm and 
might have confessed his shortcomings. 

Our discussion was growing into a quarrel, when 
Dmitri suddenly became silent, and went into another 
room. I followed him, continuing to speak, but he did 
not answer me. I knew that in the column of his vices 
was also irritability, and that he was now trying to over- 
come it. I cursed all his rules. 

This, then, is what our rule to tell each other every- 
thing we felt, and never to tell a third person about it, had 
led us to! In our transports of frankness we frequently 
made most disgraceful confessions to each other, and, to 
our shame, interpreted suppositions and dreams as desires 
and sensations, just as had happened in this particular 
case. These confessions not only did not strengthen the 
bond which united us, but dried up that very feeling, and 
disunited us; and now his egotism suddenly prevented 
him from making the simplest kind of confession, and in 
the heat of the discussion we made use of the very 
weapons which we had given one another, and which 
struck us painfully. 


XLIT. 
OUR STEPMOTHER 


ALTHOUGH papa had intended to come to Moscow with 
his wife after New Year’s, he arrived in October, when 
hunting with dogs was still in full swing. Papa said that 
he had changed his mind because his case was to be taken 
up in the Senate; but Mimi told us that Avdétya Vasi- 
levna suffered such ennui in the country, and so often 
spoke of Moscow, and pretended to be ill, that papa 
decided to fulfil her wish. “Because she never loved 
him, and only tired everybody talking of her love, when 
she really only wished to marry a rich man,” added Mimi, 
drawing a pensive sigh, as if to say: “Certain people 
would have acted quite differently, if he had only known 
how to appreciate them.” 

Certain people were unjust to Avdétya Vasflevna; her 
love for papa, a passionate, loyal love of self-sacrifice, was 
visible in every word, look, and motion of hers. But 
this love did not in the least interfere, aside from her 
desire not to be separated from the husband she wor- 
shipped, with her wanting an extraordinary bonnet from 
Madame Annete, a hat with an unusual, blue ostrich 
feather, and a dress of blue Venetian velvet, which would 
artistically display her stately bosom and arms, that no 
one but her husband and maids had seen heretofore. 
Katenka was naturally on the side of her mother, while 
between us and our stepmother strange, jocular relations 


were established from the very first day of her arrival, 
439 


440 YOUTH 


The moment she stepped out of the carriage, Volddya, 
with a solemn face and dim eyes, scuffing and curtsey- 
ing, walked up to her hand, and said, as if introducing 
some one: 

“T have the honour of welcoming my dear mother, and 
kissing her hand.” 

“Oh, dear son!” said Avdétya Vasilevna, smiling her 
beautiful, monotonous smile. 

« And do not forget your second son,” I said, also walk- 
ing up to her hand, and involuntarily assuming Volddya’s 
expression and voice. 

If our stepmother and we had been sure of mutual 
attachment, this expression might have signified a disre- 
gard of demonstrative tokens of love; if we had been 
before hostilely inclined toward each other, it might have 
signified irony, or contempt of dissembling, or a desire to 
conceal from father our real relations, and many other 
sentiments and thoughts; but in the present case, this 
expression, which exactly fitted Avdétya Vasilevna’s dis- 
position, meant absolutely nothing, and only concealed an 
absence of all relations. I have often noticed since, in 
other families, just such jocular, false relations, whenever 
their members have a presentiment that the true relations 
would not be in place; precisely these relations subsisted 
between us and Avdétya Vasilevna. We hardly ever 
came out of them; we were always dissemblingly polite 
to her, spoke French, scuffed, and called her “ Chere 
maman,’ to which she always replied with jokes of the 
same character, and with her beautiful, monotonous smile. 
Blubbering Lytibochka alone, with her bandy legs and 
silly conversations, took a liking to our stepmother, and 
very naively, and at times awkwardly, endeavoured to 
bring us all together; and thus Lytibochka was the only 
person in the whole world for whom Avdétya Vasilevna 
had a drop of attachment outside of her passionate love 
for papa. Avddétya Vasflevna showed for her an ecstatic 


OUR STEPMOTHER 441 


admiration and timid respect, which amazed us very 
much. 

In the beginning Avdétya Vastlevna was fond of call- 
ing herself stepmother and hinting how badly and unjustly 
children and home people always looked upon a step- 
mother, and how difficult her position was in consequence. 
Although she well knew the disagreeableness of this posi- 
tion, she did nothing to avoid it, — by fondling one, giv- 
ing some gift to another, and keeping her temper, — which 
would have been a very easy thing for her to do, because 
she was not exacting by nature, and was very good at 
heart. She not only did not do so, but, on the contrary, 
foreseeing her disagreeable state, she prepared for defence 
without being attacked; and, suspecting that all the peo- 
ple of the house wanted to be in every way rude and 
insulting to her, she saw a purpose in everything, and 
regarded it as most dignified to suffer in silence; and, of 
course, by not inviting love with her inaction, invited 
only enmity. Besides, she was so entirely devoid of the 
faculty of “understanding,” of which I have spoken 
before, and which was highly developed in our house, 
and her habits were so different from those which had 
taken deep root with us, that this alone went against 
her. 

In our punctual and neat home she lived as though she 
had just arrived, rose and retired now late, now early, 
and came to dinner and supper irregularly. When there 
were no guests she walked about half-dressed, and was 
not ashamed to appear before us and the servants in her 
petticoat, with a shawl about her, leaving her arms bare. 
At first I liked this simplicity, but very soon I lost, on 
account of this very simplicity, the last respect which I 
had for her. Stranger still for us was the fact that there 
were two women in her, according as there were guests 
or not: before guests, she was a young, healthy, and cold 
beauty, superbly dressed, not stupid, not clever, but 


442 YOUTH 


mirthful; without guests, she was an oldish, haggard, 
repining woman, slatternly, and suffering ennui, though 
loving. Frequently, when I saw how she, smiling and 
flushed from the wintry cold, happy in the consciousness 
of her beauty, returned from visits, and, taking off her 
hat, walked up to the mirror to examine herself in it; or 
how she, rustling her superb low-cut ball-dress, ashamed 
and at the same time proud before her servants, walked 
to her carriage; or how she, at home, when we had some 
little evening parties, dressed in a high-necked silk dress, 
with fine laces about her delicate neck, showered on all 
sides her monotonous, but beautiful smile, I thought, 
what would those say who admired her if they saw her 
as I did, when she stayed at home in the evening, waiting 
till after twelve o’clock for her husband’s return from the 
club, and in some capote, with unkempt hair, walked like 
a shadow through the dimly lighted rooms? She would 
walk up to the piano, and play, frowning with her effort, 
the only waltz which she knew; or take up a novel and, 
having read a few sentences in the middle, throw it away 
again; or, in order not to wake the people, walk up to 
the buffet and take out from it a cucumber and some cold 
veal, and eat it, standing at the window of the buffet; or 
again, tired and gloomy, aimlessly walk from one room to 
another. 

Nothing disunited us so much as the absence of under- 
standing, which found its expression more particularly in 
a characteristic manner of condescending attention, when- 
ever we spoke about things unintelligible to her. She was 
not to be blamed for acquiring an unconscious habit of 
slightly smiling with her lips only, and nodding, whenever 
she was told things that little interested her (nothing 
interested her but herself and her husband); but this 
smile and nod, frequently repeated, were unbearably 
detestable. Her merriment, too, as though mocking her- 
self, us, and the whole world, was also awkward and did 


OUR STEPMOTHER 443 


not communicate itself to others; and her sentimentality 
was truly nauseating. The main thing was that she did 
not blush to tell everybody continually of her love for 
papa. Though she did not tell an untruth when she 
asserted that all her life consisted in her love for her 
husband, and though she proved it by her whole life, this 
unabashed, uninterrupted repetition about her love was, 
according to our ideas, detestable, and we were even more 
ashamed for her when she told it to strangers, than when 
she made mistakes in speaking French. 

She loved her husband more than anything else in the 
world, and her husband loved her, especially in the begin- 
ning, when he saw that she pleased others as well. The 
only aim of her life was to get the love of her husband ; 
but she seemed purposely to be doing everything which 
might displease him, with the aim in view of showing 
him all the power of her love and her readiness for self- 
sacrifice. 

She was fond of fine dresses, and father liked to see 
her a belle in society, so as to provoke praises and admi- 
ration; she sacrificed her passion for fine garments for 
father, and more and more accustomed herself to stay at 
home in a gray blouse. Papa, who regarded freedom and 
equality as necessary conditions in family relations, had 
hoped that his favourite Lytibochka and his good young 
wife would become intimate and friendly ; but Avddtya 
Vasilevna sacrificed herself, and thought it necessary to 
show an improper respect to the real hostess of the house, 
as she called Lytibochka, which painfully offended papa. 
He played a great deal that winter, finally lost much, 
and, anxious, as ever, not to mix up his gambling with 
his domestic affairs, concealed all his gaming from his 
home people. Ayddtya Vasilevna sacrificed herself, and 
though frequently ill, and even pregnant at the end of 
winter, considered it her duty, in her gray blouse, with 
unkempt hair, though it were four or five o’clock in the 


444 YOUTH 


morning, to totter along in order to meet papa, when he, 
frequently tired, having sustained losses, shamefaced, after 
an eighth fine, returned from his club. She asked him 
abstractedly whether he had been lucky at the game, and 
she listened with condescending attention, smiling and 
nodding, to what he told her about his doings in the club, 
and to his hundredth entreaty not to wait for him. And 
although my father’s gains and losses, on which, such was 
his game, his wealth depended, did not in the least interest 
her, she continued to be the first to meet him, every time 
when he returned from his club. In truth, she was urged 
on to these meetings not only by her passion for self- 
sacrifice, but by a secret jealousy, from which she suffered 
to an extraordinary degree. Nobody in the world could 
have convinced her that papa was returning so late from 
his club, and not from an amour. She tried to read in 
papa’s face his amatory secrets, and not making out any- 
thing, she sighed, with a certain pleasurableness of grief, 
and gave herself over to the contemplation of her mis- 
fortune. 

On account of these, and many other, continuous sacri- 
fices, in papa’s relations with his wife, there became 
noticeable, in the last months of that winter, when he 
lost a great deal, and therefore was generally out of sorts, 
an intermediate feeling of quiet hatred,— that reserved 
detestation of the object of attachment, which expresses 
itself in an unconscious tendency to offer all kinds of 
petty, moral annoyances to that object. 


XLII. 
NEW COMPANIONS 


THE winter passed unnoticed and it began to thaw, and 
in the university the schedule of examinations was already 
nailed to the wall, when I suddenly recalled that I had to 
pass examinations in eighteen subjects which I had taken, 
but of which I had neither heard, nor noted down, nor 
prepared a single one. It is strange such a plain question 
as how to pass my examinations had never occurred to 
me. I lived all that winter in such a mist, which was 
occasioned by my enjoyment of being a grown man and 
comme wu faut, that when such a question as the examina- 
tions did occur to me, I compared myself with my com- 
panions, and thought, “They will go to the examinations, 
and most of them are not yet comme il faut, consequently 
I have an advantage over them, and certainly shall pass 
my examinations.” I attended my lectures only because 
I got used to doing so, and because papa told me to go. 
And then, I had many acquaintances, and I often had a 
jolly time at the university. I loved that noise, that con- 
versation, that laughter of the lecture-rooms ; loved during 
the lectures, while occupying a back seat, at the even 
sound of the professor’s voice, to dream of something, and 
to observe my companions; loved sometimes to run down 
to Matern to take a drink of brandy and a bite of some- 
thing, and, though I knew the professors might afterward 
get after me for it, timidly to open the creaking door, and 


enter the lecture-room ; loved to take part in some practi- 
445 


446 YOUTH 


_ cal joke, when the different courses pressed against each 
other in the corridor. All that was very jolly. 

When everybody began to attend lectures more regu- 
larly, and the professor of physics finished his course and 
bade us good-bye until the examinations, and the students 
collected their note-books and started to study in groups, 
I, too, thought I ought to prepare myself. Operov, with 
whom I continued to exchange greetings, but with whom 
I was otherwise on a very distant footing, offered me, as I 
mentioned before, his note-books, and even proposed that 
I should come with other students to prepare the exami- 
nations together with him. I thanked him and consented, 
hoping by honourmg him thus to wipe out our old mis- 
understanding, but insisted that all the students should 
come to my house, because I had pleasant quarters. 

I was told that we should prepare, by turns, now at one 
house, now at another, wherever it was most convenient 
as to distance. The first time we met at the house of 
Zuikhin. It was a small room with a partition, in a large 
house on Trubndéy Boulevard. I was late that first day, and 
arrived when they had begun to read. The small room 
was filled with smoke from the strongest kind of tobacco, 
which Ztikhin smoked. On the table stood a decanter 
with brandy, a wine-glass, bread, salt, and a leg of mutton. 

Ziikhin did not get up, but invited me to have a drink, 
and take off my coat. 

“TI suppose you are not used to such a reception,” he 
added. 

They all had on dirty chintz shirts and fronts. Trying 
not to express my contempt for them, I took off my coat, 
and lay down on the sofa, in an unconventional fashion. 
Zikhin was reading, occasionally consulting his note- 
hooks; others stopped him and asked him questions 
which he answered briefly, cleverly, and precisely. I lis- 
tened, and asked him a question, since there was much 
which I did not understand, not knowing what preceded. 


NEW COMPANIONS 447 


“My friend, there is no use listening if you do not 
know this,” said Zuikhin. “I will give you the note- 
books, you study it up for to-morrow; there will other- 
wise be no use explaining to you.” I felt ashamed of my 
ignorance, and, at the same time being conscious of the 
justice of Ziikhin’s remarks, I quit listening, and busied 
myself with observing my new companions. According 
to my classification into people comme i faut, and people 
not comme wu faut, they obviously belonged to the second 
division, and, consequently, aroused in me not only the 
feeling of contempt, but also a certain personal hatred 
which I experienced toward them, because, not being 
comme il faut, they seemed to regard me merely as their 
equal, and even to treat me in a condescending, though 
kindly manner. This feeling was provoked in me by 
their feet, their dirty hands with their bitten nails, by 
Operov’s long nail on his little finger, by their rose-coloured 
shirts, their fronts, their swearing, which they jestingly 
directed at each other, the dirty room, Ztikhin’s habit of 
frequently clearing his nose by pressing his finger against 
one nostril, and especially by their manner of pronouncing, 
using, and accentuating certain words. For example, they 
used the word “insensate” for “foolish,” “ precisely ” for 
“just,” “superb” for “all right,” and so forth, which 
seemed to me bookish and detestably improper. I was 
still more provoked to hatred by their accentuation of 
some Russian, and especially foreign, words. 

In spite of their repulsive exterior, which at that time 
I was unable to overlook, I felt that there was something 
good in these people, and, envying the jolly comradery 
which united them, was drawn to these students, and 
wished to become better acquainted with them, however 
hard it was for me to do so. I already knew gentle, 
honest Operov; now, I took a special liking for quick, 
extremely clever Zuikhin, who evidently was a leader in 
this circle. He was a small, thick-set man of dark com- 


448 YOUTH 


plexion, with a somewhat swollen and always shining, but 
exceedingly intelligent, lively, and independent counte- 
nance. This expression he owed mainly to a low, but 
arched forehead over deep-set black eyes, bristly short 
hair, and a thick black beard, which always looked 
unshaven. - He did not seem to be thinking about himself 
(which always pleased me in people), and it was evident 
that his brain was never idle. He had one of those 
expressive faces which suddenly change in your opinion 
a few hours after you have seen them for the first time. 
This happened, in my opinion, with Zukhin’s face toward 
the end of that evening. Suddenly new wrinkles appeared 
in his face, his eyes retreated farther, his smile became 
different, and his whole countenance was so changed that 
it was hard to recognize him. 

When the reading was over, Zuikhin, the other students, 
and I drank a glass of brandy, and the decanter was almost 
empty. Ztikhin asked who had a quarter, so that he could 
send the old woman, who waited on him, for some more 
brandy. I offered him my money, but Zukhin turned 
to Operov, as though he had not heard me, and Operov 
took out his beaded purse, and gave him the required 
coin. 

“ Look out and don’t drink too much,” said Operov, who 
did not drink himself. 

“Don’t be afraid,” answered Ziikhin, sucking the mar- 
row out of the bone of mutton (I remember how I thought 
that it was his eating so much marrow that made him so 
clever). “Don’t be afraid,” continued Zukhin, smiling 
slightly, and his smile was usually such that you had to 
notice it, and thank him for it. “Though I may drink a 
bit, it will not harm me; now, my friend, we shall see who 
will beat whom, he me, or I him. It is all fixed, my 
friend,” he added, boastingly snapping his fingers against 
his brow. “ Now, Iam afraid Seménov will flunk; he has 
been drinking hard.” 


NEW COMPANIONS 449 


So it happened : that very Seménov with the gray hair, 
who had so much pleased me at the first examination 
because he looked worse than I, and who, after having 
passed his entrance examinations second on the list, had 
in the first month of his student life regularly attended 
his lectures, toward the end did not appear at all at the 
university, having gone on a spree long before reviewing 
time. 

“ Where is he?” somebody asked. 

“T have lost sight of him,” continued Zukhin. «“ Last 
time we smashed ‘Lisbon’ together. It was a superb 
affair. Then, they say, there was something or other — 
He has a great head! There is a lot of fire in that man! 
A lot of brain! It will be a pity if he goes to the dogs. 
And he will, no doubt. He is not the kind of a lad, with 
his impulses, to hold out at the university.” 

After a short chat, they went away, having first agreed 
to meet the following days at Zukhin’s, as his room was 
centrally located. When they went out, I felt embarrassed 
because they all walked, and I had a vehicle, so I timidly 
proposed to Operov to take him home. Ztikhin had fol- 
lowed us out, and, having borrowed a rouble of Operov, 
went away somewhere to pass the whole night. On our 
way, Operov told me a great deal about Zukhin’s character 
and manner of life. When I returned home I could not 
fall asleep for a long time, as I pondered about these my 
new acquaintances. I long wavered between respect for 
them, to which their knowledge, their simplicity, honesty, 
and poetry of youth, and careless bravery led me, and 
revulsion, produced by their indecent exterior. In spite 
of my best wishes, it was at that time literally impossible 
for me to get on a close footing with them. Our concep- 
tions were quite different. There was an abyss of shades 
which for me constituted the whole charm and meaning of 
life, but which was quite incomprehensible to them, and 
vce versa. But the chief cause which made it impossible 


450 YOUTH 


for us to get nearer to each other lay in the twenty-rouble 
cloth of my coat, my vehicle, and fine linen shirts. This 
cause was particularly important for me; it seemed to me 
that I involuntarily offended them with the signs of my 
wealth. I felt guilty before them, and, now humbling 
myself, now feeling provoked for my undeserved humility, 
and again passing to self-confidence, was entirely unable 
to enter into equal, sincere relations with them. The 
coarse and depraved side of Zukhin’s character was at this 
time drowned for me in that powerful poetry of daring, of 
which I felt he was possessed, so that it did not affect me 
unpleasantly. 

I went nearly every evening for two weeks to Zuikhin’s 
to study. I studied very little, however, because, as I have 
already remarked, I was too far behind my classmates. I 
did not have enough strength of character to study by 
myself in order to catch up with them, and thus only pre- 
tended I was listening and understanding what they were 
reading. I thought my companions guessed I was feign- 
ing, and I frequently noticed that they left out passages 
which they knew, and never asked me about them. 

With every day I more and more excused the irregulari- 
ties of that circle, entering more into its life, and finding 
more poetry in it. The word of honour, which I had given 
to Dmitri that I would never go out carousing with them, 
kept me back in my desire to share their pleasures. 

Once I tried to boast to them of my knowledge of litera- 
ture, particularly French, and led up the conversation to 
it. To my astonishment I found that, although they pro- 
nounced the foreign titles in Russian, they had read a great 
deal more than I, and that they knew and appreciated the 
English, and even Spanish, authors, and Le Sage, whose 
names even I had never heard. Ptishkin and Zhukédvski 
were literature to them, and not, as to me, books in yellow 
bindings, which I had read and learned when a child. They 
despised Dumas, Sue, and Féval alike, and they all, espe- 


NEW COMPANIONS 451 


cially Zukhin, judged literature much better and clearer 
than I, a fact which I could not help acknowledging. 

Nor did I have any advantage over them in the knowl- 
edge of music. To my still greater astonishment, Operov 
played the violin, another student who came there played 
the cello and the piano, and both played in the university 
orchestra, knew music well, and appreciated what was good. 
In short, everything of which I wanted to boast before 
them, except my pronunciation of French and German, 
they knew better than I, and were not in the least proud 
of it. I might have bragged of my knowledge of the 
world, but I was not possessed of it like Volddya. Then, 
what was that height from which I looked down upon 
them? My acquaintance with Prince Ivan Ivdnovich ? 
My pronunciation of French? My linen shirt? My nails ? 
But were not all these mere trifles? It sometimes occurred 
to me dimly, under the influence of the feeling of envy 
which I had in that company and of the good-hearted 
merriment which I observed. They all spoke “thou” to 
each other. The simplicity of their address frequently 
reached coarseness, but even under that coarse exterior 
could be noticed a constant fear of offending one another. 
“ Rascal,” “ pig,” which they employed as words of endear- 
ment, were irksome to me, and gave me cause for making 
fun of them inwardly; but these words did not offend 
them, and did not prevent their being on a very friendly 
and intimate footing. In their relations with each other 
they were as careful and refined as only very poor and 
very young people can be. The main thing was,I felt a 
broad, daring sweep in Zukhin’s character, and in his 
exploits in “ Lisbon.” I imagined that these carousals 
were something quite different from that hypocrisy with 
the burnt rum and champagne, in which I had taken part 
at the house of Baron Z é 





ALL V: 
ZOKHIN AND SEMENOV 


I po not know to what condition of life Zuikhin belonged, 
but I know that he had been a Gymnasiast at S——, was 
without any means, and, it seems, was not of the gentry. 
He was then about eighteen years of age, though he looked 
much older. He was uncommonly clever, but especially 
quick-witted : it was easier for him at once to grasp a whole, 
complicated subject, to foresee all its details and deductions, 
than consciously to judge the laws by which these deduc- 
tions were arrived at. He knew he was clever, was proud 
of it, and, on account of this pride, was equally simple in 
his relations with everybody, and kind-hearted. He had, 
no doubt, experienced much in life. His impassioned, re- 
ceptive nature had had time to receive the impress of love, 
friendship, affairs,and money matters. Though in a small 
way, and only in the lower strata of society, there was not 
a thing for which, if he had experienced it, he did not have 
something like contempt, or indifference and inattention, 
which originated in the great facility with which every- 
thing came to him. He seemed to take up with ardour 
everything new, only in order to scorn it the moment he 
had attained his end, — and his apt nature always attained 
its ends, and the right to scorn them. 

The same was true of his sciences: though he did not 
study much, nor take down notes, he knew mathematics 
excellently, and it was not an idle boast when he said he 


would beat his professor. He considered many of the 
452 


ZUKHIN AND SEMENOV 453 


lectures the merest nonsense, but with the unconscious 
practical temporizing which was inherent in his nature, 
he easily fell in with the professors, and they liked him. 
He was brusque in his relations with the authorities, but 
the authorities respected him. He had no regard nor love 
for the sciences, and even had contempt for those who seri- 
ously strove to acquire what came to him so easily. The 
sciences, as he understood them, did not occupy one-tenth 
of his faculties; life as a student did not offer him any- 
thing to which he could devote himself entirely ; and his 
impassioned, active nature, as he himself said, demanded 
life, and he gave himself up to carousing, according to his 
means, with ardour and with the desire to wear himself 
out completely. Just before the examinations, Operov’s 
prediction came true. He disappeared for two weeks, and 
we had to study at the house of another student. But at 
the first examination he appeared in the hall, pale, emaci- 
ated, with trembling hands, and was brilliantly promoted 
to the second course. 

In the beginning of the year there were some eight men 
in the band of carousers, of which Zukhin was the leader. 
Among their number were at first Ikénin and Seménov, 
but Ikénin withdrew from the company, being unable to 
stand all the reckless orgies to which they abandoned them- 
selves in the beginning of the year, and Seménov withdrew, 
because it was not enough for him. In the beginning every- 
body in our course looked with terror at them, and told 
each other their exploits. 

The chief heroes of these exploits were Zukhin, and 
toward the end of the year, Seménov. Seménov finally 
was looked upon with a certain terror, and when he made 
his appearance at a lecture, which was rather rarely, the 
whole lecture-room was agitated. 

Seménoy ended his carousing activities immediately 
before the examinations in a most energetic and original 
manner, and I was a witness to it, thanks to my acquaint- 


454 YOUTH 


ance with Zuikhin. It happened like this. One evening, 
when we had just come together at Ziikhin’s, and Operov, 
having placed near himself one candle in a candlestick and 
another in a bottle, had lowered his head and begun to 
read in his thin voice his finely written note-books of 
physics, the landlady entered the room and announced to 
Ziikhin that somebody had brought a note for him — 


Sel 
I FLUNKED 


AT last came the first examination, in differential and 
integral calculus, while I was still living in a strange mist, 
and was not clearly conscious of what was awaiting me. 
In the evenings, when I returned from my visits to Zukhin’s 
company, I was haunted by the thought that I ought to 
modify my convictions, that there was something wrong 
in them; but in the morning, in the sunshine, I again 
became comme w faut, was satisfied with it, and did not 
desire any changes. 

I was in such a frame of mind when I arrived at my 
first examination. I sat down on the bench where princes, 
counts, and barons sat, began to converse with them in 
French, and, however strange it may seem, it did not even 
occur to me that very soon I should have to answer ques- 
tions in a subject I knew nothing about. I looked calmly 
at all who went up to be examined, and even permitted 
myself to make fun of some of them. 

“Well, Grap,” I said to [linka, when he returned from 
the table, “are you scared ?” 

“We shall see how you will do,” said Ilinka, who had 
revolted against my influence, ever since he had entered 
the university, did not smile when I spoke to him, and was 
ill disposed toward me. 

I smiled contemptuously at Ilinka’s answer, although 
the doubt which he had expressed frightened me for a 


moment. But a mist again shrouded that feeling, and I 
40H 


456 YOUTH 


continued to be absent-minded and indifferent, so that 
I promised Baron Z to go and lunch with him at 
Matern’s as soon as I should be examined, as though that 
were the merest trifle for me. When I was called out 
together with Ikénin, I straightened out the skirts of my 
uniform, and in the coldest blood walked up to the exam- 
ination table. 

A light chill of terror ran down my back only when the 
young professor, the same that had examined me at the 
entrance examination, looked straight at me, and I touched 
the paper on which the tickets were written. Ikénin, 
who picked up a ticket with the same swagger as he had 
done at the previous examinations, answered a thing or 
two, though badly ; but I did what he had done at his first 
examinations — even worse, for I took a second ticket, and 
did not answer even that. The professor looked pitifully 
at me, and in a quiet, but firm voice said: 

“You will not pass to the second course, Mr. Irténev. 
You had better not try the other examinations. The 
department has to be cleaned up. And you, too, Mr. 
Ik6nin,” he added. 

Ikénin asked permission to be reéxamined, as a special 
favour, but the professor answered him that he would not 
be able to do in two days what he had not done in 
the course of a year, and that he would pass under no 
conditions. Ikdénin begged him again, piteously and 
humbly, but the professor declined again. 

“You may go, gentlemen,” he said, in the same loud, 
but firm voice. 

Not until then did I decide to leave the table, and I 
felt ashamed because I had with my silent presence, as it 
were, taken part in Ikénin’s humiliating prayers. I do 
not remember how I crossed the hall past the students, 
what I answered to their questions, how I walked out into 
the vestibule, and how I reached home! I was aggrieved 
and humiliated, — I was truly wretched. 





I FLUNKED 457 


For three days I did not leave my room, saw nobody, 
sought, as in my childhood, consolation in tears, and wept 
much. I looked for pistols with which to shoot myself, 
if I should make up my mind to do so. I thought [inka 
Grap would spit in my face upon meeting me, and that 
he would be right in doing so; that Operov rejoiced at 
my misfortune and told everybody of it; that Kolpikdév 
was quite right when he insulted me at Yar’s; that my 
stupid speeches with Princess Korndkov could have had 
no other results, and so forth. All the oppressive mo- 
ments of my life, so tormenting to my egoism, passed, one 
after another, through my mind; I tried to accuse some 
one in particular of my misfortune; thought that some- 
body had done it on purpose; concocted a whole intrigue 
against myself; murmured against the professors, against 
my classmates, against Voldédya, against Dmitri, and 
against papa for having sent me to the university ; mur- 
mured against Providence for having permitted me to live 
to such a disgrace. Finally, feeling that I was com- 
pletely undone in the eyes of all those who knew me, I 
asked father to let me become a hussar, or go to the 
Caucasus. Papa was dissatisfied with me, but, seeing my 
terrible grief, consoled me, saying that, however bad it 
was, it might be mended by my going over into another de- 
partment. Volddya, too, who did not see anything terri- 
ble in my misfortune, said that in another department I 
should at least not have to be ashamed before my new 
classmates. 

Our ladies did not understand at all, and did not wish, 
or were not able, to understand what an examination was, 
what it meant to be promoted, and were sorry for me only 
because they saw my grief. Dmitri came to see me every 
day, and was all the time very kind and considerate of 
me, but I thought that for that very reason he had cooled 
off to me. It always pained and mortified me when he 
came up-stairs and silently seated himself near me, with 


458 YOUTH 


something of the expression with which a physician sits 
down on the bed of a dangerously sick man. Séfya 
Ivdénovna and Vdrenka sent me through him some books 
which I had desired to have, and wanted me to come to 
see them; but in this very attention I saw a haughty, 
offensive condescension for a man who had fallen very 
low. Three or four days later I calmed down a little, 
but did not leave the house until the day of our departure 
to the country, and continued to walk aimlessly from one 
room to another, all the time brooding over my sorrow, 
and trying to evade all the people of the house. 

I thought and thought, and finally, late one evening, 
when I was down-stairs all alone, and listening to Avdé- 
tya Vasilevna’s waltz, I suddenly jumped up, ran up-stairs, 
fetched the note-book on which was written “Rules of 
Life,” opened it, and was overcome by repentance and 
moral impulse. I burst out into tears, but no longer tears 
of repentance. Having regained my composure, I deter- 
mined again to write down the rules of life, and I was 
convinced that I would never again do anything wrong, 
would never pass an idle moment, and never be false to my 
rules. 

I shall tell in the next, happier half of my youth, 
whether this moral impulse lasted long, in what it con- 
sisted, and what new principles it furnished for my moral 
development. 


458  -youTH 


something of the expression with which a physician «its 
down on the bed of a dangerously sick man. Séfya 


lvdnovna and Vérenka sent me through him some books _ 


which | had desired to have, and wanted me to come to 
see them; but in this very attention I saw a haughty, 
offensive condescension for a man who had fallen very 


low. Three or four days later I calmed down a little, — 


but did not leave the house until the day of our departure 
io the country, and continued to walk aimlessly from one 
room to another, all the time brooding over my sorrow, 
aud trying to evade all the people of the house. 

{ thought and thought, and finally, late one evening, 
when I was down-stairs all alone, and listening to Avdé- 


= iya Vasilevna’s waltz, I suddenly jumped up, ran up-stairs, 








fetched the note-book on which was written “Rules of | 
Life,” opened it, and was overcome by repentance and 
inoral impulse. J burst out into tears, but no longer tears 
of repentance. Having regained my composure, I deter- 
mined again to write down the rules of life, and I was_ 
convinced that I would uever again do anything wrong, 
_ would never pass an idle moment, and never be false to my 
rules, 

I shall tell in the oext bappier half of my youth, 
whether this moral «m.puise lasted long, in what it con- 
sisted, and what new prise piee it furnished for my moral 
development. 








Portrait of Tolstoy at the Age of 23 


—— Phatogravure from Daguerreotype taken in 1851 





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THE INCURSION 


Story of a Volunteer 


1852 


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THE INCURSION 


Story of a Volunteer 





I. 


On the 12th of July Captain Khlépov walked in 
through the low door of my earth-hut, wearing his 
epaulets and sabre, in which uniform I had not seen him 
since my arrival in the Caucasus. 

“T am directly from the colonel,” he said, answering 
the interrogative glance with which I met him; “to-mor- 
row our battalion will start.” 

«Whither ?”’ I asked. 

TON: The troops are to rendezvous there.” 

« And from there, I suppose, they will go into action ?” 

“ No doubt.” 

“Where? What do you think ?” 

“Think? I tell you what I know. Last night a Tartar 
came galloping from the general,—he brought an order 
for the battalion to move and take two days’ rations of 
hardtack along. But where, why, how long, my friend, 
that we do not ask; we are told to go, and that is 
enough.” 

“But if you only take two days’ rations of hardtack, 
the troops will not be held there longer, it seems.” 

“Well, that does not mean anything yet —” 


“How so?” I asked, in astonishment. 
461 





462 THE INCURSION 


“ Just so! When they went to Daérgi they took hard- 
tack for a week, and stayed almost a month.” 

“Shall I be allowed to go with you?” I asked, after a 
moment’s silence. 

“I suppose there will be no objection, but my advice is 
not to go. What is the use risking —” 

“No, you must permit me not to take your advice; I 
have been living a whole month here only to get a chance 
to see an action, — and you want me to miss it.” 

« All right, go; only, really, do you not think you had 
better stay? You might wait for us here, and go out 
hunting in the meantime; and we should go with God’s 
aid. It would be fine!” he said, in such a persuasive tone 
that in the first moment it really appeared to me to be 
fine; but I said with firmness that I would not stay for 
anything. 

“What is it you have not seen there?” the captain 
continued to persuade me. “Do you want to find out 
what battles are like? Read Mikhdylovski-Danilévski’s 
‘Description of War;’ it is a fine book: he describes 
there in detail where every corps is put, and how the 
battle takes place.” 

“Qn the contrary, that does not interest me,” I 
answered. 

“Well, then what? You just want to see, I suppose, 
how people are killed? Now, in 1832 there was a certain 
gentleman here. I think he was a Spaniard. He took 
part in two expeditions with us, wearing some kind of 
a blue uniform; the lad was killed. You can’t astonish 
anybody here, my friend.” 

However annoyed I was because the captain so badly 
interpreted my intention, I did not attempt to disillusion 
him. 

“ Was he a brave fellow?” I asked him. 

“God knows! He insisted on riding in the van; 
wherever there was an engagement he was sure to be.” 


THE INCURSION 463 


“Then he was brave,” I said. 

“No, it does not mean bravery to push yourself for- 
ward where you are not wanted —” 

“What do you call bravery ?” 

“Bravery ? bravery?” repeated the captain, with the 
mien of a man to whom such a question is put for the 
first time. “Brave is he who acts as is proper,” he said, 
after a moment’s thought. 

I recalled that Plato defined bravery as the knowledge 
of what one ought to fear and what not, and, in spite of 
the generality and obscurity in the captain’s definition, I 
considered that the fundamental thought of both was not 
so different as might appear, and that the definition of 
the captain was even more correct than that of the Greek 
philosopher, because if he could have expressed himself 
like Plato, he no doubt would have said that he is brave 
who is afraid only of what one ought to be afraid of, and 
not of that which one should not fear. 

I wanted to explain my idea to the captain. 

« Yes,” he said, “it seems to me that in every danger 
there is a choice, and the choice made, for example, under 
the influence of the feeling of duty is bravery, and the 
choice made under the influence of a base feeling is 
cowardice; therefore, a man cannot be called brave who 
risks his life out of vanity, or curiosity or greed; on the 
other hand, a man cannot be called a coward who declines 
a danger under the influence of an honest feeling of 
domestic obligation or simply from conviction.” 

The captain looked at me with a strange expression all 
the time I was speaking. | 

“T do not know how to prove that to you,” he said, 
filling his pipe, “ but we have here a lieutenant who likes 
to philosophize. You talk with him. He writes poetry, 
too.” 

I had become acquainted with the captain in the Cau- 
casus, but had known of him before in Russia. His 


464 THE INCURSION 


mother, Marya Ivdnovna Khldpov, a small landed propri- 
etress, was living two versts from my estate. I had been 
at her house before my departure for the Caucasus. The 
old woman was very happy to hear that I should see her 
Pdshenka (so she called the gray-haired old captain), and, 
being a living epistle, should be able to tell him about 
her life and transmit a package to him. Having treated 
me to excellent pastry and goose-meat, Marya Ivdnovna 
went into her sleeping-room and returned with a black, 
fairly large amulet, to which was attached a black silk 
ribbon. 

“This is Our Mother, the Protectress of the Burning 
Bush,” she said, making the sign of the cross and kissing 
the image of the Holy Virgin, and handed it over to me. 
“Do me the favour, my dear sir, and try to get it to him. 
You see, when he went to the Caucasus I had mass cele- 
brated, and made a vow I would order this image of the 
Holy Virgin, if he should be hale and unharmed. The 
Protectress and the holy saints have preserved him these 
eighteen years: he has not been wounded once, and yet 
he has been in all kinds of battles! As Mikhaylo, who 
has been with him, told me, it is enough to make one’s 
hair stand on end, you know. All I know of him is from 
strangers: he, my dove, does not write a word to me 
about his expeditions, —he is afraid he would frighten 
me.” 

Only in the Caucasus I learned, but not from the cap- 
tain, that he had been severely wounded four times, and 
naturally he had written nothing to his mother about the 
expeditions, no more than about the wounds. 

“So let him wear this holy image,” she continued. “I 
bless him with it. The All-holy Protectress will defend 
him! Particularly in battles let him always have it on. 
Just tell him, sir, that his mother orders him to do so.” 

I promised to transmit her exact message. 

“IT know you will like him, my Pdshenka,” the old 


THE INCURSION 465 


woman continued. “He is just a fine fellow! Will you 
believe it, not a year passes without his sending me some 
money, and he helps liberally my daughter, Annushka ; 
and all that comes out of his salary! I truly praise the 
Lord all my life,” she concluded, with tears in her eyes, 
“for having given me such a child.” 

“ Does he write you often?” I asked. 

“ But rarely, my dear sir: about once a year, and then 
only when he sends the money, so he adds a word, and 
sometimes not. ‘If, says he,‘I do not write you, mother, 
you know I am well and alive; and if anything should 
happen, the Lord prevent it, they will let you know with- 
out me.’” 

When I gave the captain his mother’s present (that 
happened in my quarters), he asked for a piece of wrap- 
ping-paper, carefully wrapped it, and put it away. I told 
him a good deal about the details of his mother’s life: the 
captain was silent. When I was through, he went into 
the corner, and was uncommonly long in filling his 
pipe. 

«Yes, a fine old woman!” he said from there, in a 
somewhat dull voice, “I wonder whether God will let me 
see her once more.” : 

In these simple words were expressed very much love 
and sorrow. ° 

“Why do you serve here?” I said. 

“T have to serve,’ he answered with conviction. “ You 
know double pay means a great deal for a poor fellow 
like me.” 

The captain lived frugally; he did not play cards, 
rarely caroused, and smoked common tobacco, which he, 
no one knew why, called “Sambrotalik” tobacco. I had 
taken a liking to the captain ere this: he had one of 
those simple, quiet Russian countenances, into the eyes 
of which it is pleasant and easy to look straight; but 
after this chat I felt a genuine respect for him. 


Il. 


AT four o’clock in the morning, on the following day, 
the captain came after me. He was dressed in an old, 
worn-out coat without epaulets, Lezgian broad pantaloons, 
a white fur cap, with its hair turned yellow and uncurl- 
ing, and an unsightly Asiatic sabre over his shoulder. 
The white pony on which he rode walked with drooping 
head, in a slow amble, and continually switching his 
scanty tail. ‘Though the figure of the good captain was 
not very soldierly, and was even unattractive, there was 
expressed in it so much indifference to everything sur- 
rounding him, that it inspired involuntary respect. 

I did not keep him waiting even a minute, immediately 
mounted my horse, and we rode out together beyond the 
gate of the fortress. 

The battalion was some fifteen hundred feet ahead of 
us, and appeared a black, solid, waving mass. One could 
guess that it was infantry from the fact that the bayonets 
could be seen like a forest of long needles, and now and 
then we heard the sounds of a soldier song, of the drum, 
and of the superb tenor of the singer of Company Six, 
which I had greatly enjoyed in the fortress. The road 
lay through the middle of a deep and broad ravine, 
along the bank of a small river, which at that time was 
“playing,” that is, overrunning its banks. Flocks of wild 
pigeons circled near it; they now alighted on the stony 
bank, now, turning around in the air, and making large 
circles, disappeared from sight. The sun was not yet to 
be seen, but the higher places on the right of the ravine 

466 


THE INCURSION 467 


were beginning to be illuminated. The gray and whitish 
rocks, the yellowish green moss, the dew-drenched bushes 
of the holly, the medlar, and the buckthorn were defined 
with extraordinary clearness and relief in the transparent 
golden light of the east ; but the other side, and the hollow, 
which was covered with a dense mist that wavered in 
smoky, uneven layers, were damp and gloomy, and repre- 
sented an indefinable mixture of colours, pale violet, 
almost black, dark green, and white. Right in front of 
us, against the deep azure of the horizon, were seen with 
striking clearness the glaringly white, dull masses of the 
snow-capped mountains, with their fantastic, but minutely 
exquisite, shadows and contours. Crickets, grasshoppers, 
and thousands of other insects were awake in the tall 
grass, and filled the air with their sharp, uninterrupted 
sounds: it seemed as though an endless number of the 
tiniest bells were jingling in your ears. The air was 
redolent with the water, the grass, and the mist — in 
short, redolent with an early, beautiful summer morning. 
The captain struck fire, and lighted his pipe; the odour 
of the Sambrotalik tobacco and the tinder seemed 
unusually pleasant to me. 

We rode at the side of the road, in order to catch up 
with the infantry as quickly as possible. The captain 
seemed more pensive than usual, did not let his Daghestan 
pipe for a moment out of his mouth, and at every step 
urged on with his heels his pony, which, waddling from 
side to side, made a barely perceptible, dark green track 
over the tall, damp grass. From under his very feet a 
pheasant flew up, with its peculiar call, and with that 
noise of the wing which makes a hunter tremble with 
involuntary excitement, and slowly rose in the air. The 
captain did not pay the least attention to it. 

We caught up with the battalion, when behind us was 
heard the tramp of a galloping horse, and immediately a 
handsome, youthful man, in the coat of an officer and a 


468 THE INCURSION 


tall fur cap, passed by us. When he lined up with us, he 
smiled, nodded to the captain, and swung his whip — I 
had time only to observe that he sat in his saddle and 
held the bridle with extreme grace, and that he had 
beautiful black eyes, a delicate nose, and a barely sprout- 
ing moustache. I was particularly pleased with his 
smile when he saw us admiring him. From this smile 
alone I could judge that he was very young. 

“Where does he gallop to?” mumbled the captain, 
with a dissatisfied countenance, without taking the pipe 
out of his mouth. 

“Who is he?” I asked him. 

“Ensign Aldnin, a subaltern of my company, — he 
came last month only from the military school.” 

“ T suppose he is going for the first time into action,” I 
said. 

« That’s what makes him so awfully happy !” answered 
the captain, thoughtfully shaking his head. “Oh, youth!” 

« But why should he not be happy? I know that for a 
young officer that must be very interesting.” 

The captain was silent for two or three minutes. 

“ That’s why I say, Oh, youth!” he continued in a bass 
voice. “It is easy enough to be happy before having 
seen anything! You don’t feel quite so happy after afew 
expeditions. There are now some twenty officers in this 
expedition ; somebody or other is going to be killed, or 
wounded, so much is certain. To-day I, to-morrow he, 
day after to-morrow somebody else,— then why not be 


happy ?” 


HI. 


Tue bright sun had scarcely issued from behind a 
mountain, and begun to light up the valley over which 
we were marching, when the billowing clouds of mist were 
dispersed, and it grew warm. The soldiers, with their guns 
and sacks upon their shoulders, were marching slowly on 
the dusty road; in the ranks could be heard from time to 
time Little-Russian conversation, and laughter. A few old 
soldiers, in linen blouses, — mostly sergeants, — walked, 
smoking, at one side of the road, and carried on a sober 
conversation. Three-horse carts, laden to the top, moved 
in slow step, and raised a dense, immovable cloud of dust. 
The officers rode on horseback in front: some, as they say 
in the Caucasus, dzhigitted, that is, striking their horses 
with their whips, made them take four or five leaps, after 
which they checked them abruptly, and made them turn 
their heads back; others were interested in the singers, 
who, in spite of the oppressive heat, gave one song after 
another, without interruption. 

About two hundred yards in front of the infantry, rode 
on a large white horse a tall and handsome officer in an 
Asiatic dress, surrounded by Tartars on horseback ; he was 
known in the regiment as a desperately brave fellow and 
as one who would blurt out the truth to a man’s face, 
whoever he might be. He was dressed in a black Tartar 
half-coat with galloons, similar leggings, new, tightly fitting 
shoes with trimmings, a yellow mantle, and a tall fur cap 
poised on the back of his head. On his breast and back 


were silver galloons, to which were attached the cartridge- 
469 


470 THE INCURSION 


pouch in front, and a pistol behind ; another pistol and a 
poniard set in silver hung down from his belt. Above all 
this he was girded with a sabre in a red morocco leather 
sheath, and over his shoulder was slung a musket in a black 
case. 

From his dress, poise, carriage, and, in general, from all 
his movements, it was evident that he tried to look like a 
Tartar. He even spoke in a language that I did not know 
to the Tartars who were riding with him ; but from the 
perplexed and derisive glances which they cast at each 
other, I concluded that they did not understand him 
either. He was one of our young officers, dzhigit-braves, 
who form their ideas from Marlfnski and Lérmontov. 
These people look upon the Caucasus only through the 
prism of the “ Heroes of Our Time,” of Mulla-Nur, and so 
forth, and in all their actions are guided not by their own 
inclinations, but by the example of these heroes. 

The lieutenant may have been fond of the society of 
refined women and distinguished men, — generals, colonels, 
adjutants, — I am even convinced that he was very fond 
of this society, because he was exceeding vain, but he 
considered it his absolute duty to turn out his rough side 
to all distinguished people, though he was but moder- 
ately impertinent to them ; and when a lady appeared in 
the fortress, he regarded it as his duty to pass under her 
window with his chums, dressed in nothing but a red 
shirt and his shoes on his bare feet, and to cry and curse 
at the top of his voice, not so much in order to insult her 
as to show her what beautiful white feet he had,and how 
it would be possible to fall in love with him if he 
wanted it. 

Or, he would frequently go in the night with two or 
three peaceable Tartars into the mountains, in order to lie 
in ambush for and kill hostile Tartars, although his heart 
told him more than once that there was no bravery in 
that; he regarded it as his duty to make people suffer 


THE INCURSION 471 


in whom he pretended to be disappointed, or whom 
he thought he had to scorn or hate. He never took 
off two things from his body: a large image which hung 
from his neck, and a poniard above his shirt, with 
which he even lay down to sleep. He was sincerely con- 
vinced that he had enemies. It was his greatest delight 
to persuade himself that he had to wreak vengeance on 
somebody and wash out an insult with blood. He was 
convinced that hatred, vengeance, and contempt for the 
human race were the most elevated, most poetical of senti- 
ments. But his mistress, a Circassian woman, of course, 
whom I had occasion to meet, told me that he was a very 
kind and mild man, and that every evening he wrote his 
gloomy memoirs, cast his accounts on lined paper, and, 
kneeling, prayed to God. 

How much he had suffered in order to appear to himself 
what he had set out to be, because his companions and the 
soldiers could not understand him as he wished! Once, 
during his nightly expeditions on the road with his chums, 
he happened to wound a hostile Chechén with a bullet in 
the leg, and to take him prisoner. This Chechén afterward 
lived for seven weeks with the lieutenant, and the lieutenant 
took care of him and attended to him, as if he were his 
nearest friend, and when he was cured, the leutenant sent 
him away with gifts. Afterward, the lieutenant happened 
during an expedition to have wandered away from the 
cordon ; while he was returning the fire of the enemy, he 
heard some one call him by name, and his wounded Tartar 
friend rode out and invited the heutenant with signs to do 
the same. The lieutenant rode up to his friend, and shook 
hands with him. The mountaineers stood aloof, and did 
not shoot; but the moment the lieutenant wheeled his 
horse around, a few men shot at him, and one bullet 
grazed him below the spine. Upon another occasion I 
saw, at night, a conflagration in the fortress, and two com- 
panies of soldiers were trying to put it out. In the crowd, 


472 THE INCURSION 


which was illuminated by the blood-red glare of the fire, 
suddenly appeared a tall figure on a jet-black horse. The 
figure pushed the crowd aside, and rode up to the very fire. 
When the lieutenant came close to it, he leaped from his 
horse and rushed into the house that was burning in one 
corner. Five minutes later the lieutenant came out from 
it with singed hair and a burn on his elbow, carrying in 
his bosom two young doves which he had saved from the 
fire. 

His name was Rosenkranz; he frequently spoke of his 
genealogy, in some way or other deducing it from the 
Varengians, and proved conclusively that he and his 
ancestors had been pure Russians. 


1¥; 


THE sun had passed half of its journey, and cast its hot 
rays across the heated air upon the parched earth. The 
dark blue sky was entirely clear; only the bases of the 
snow-capped mountains were beginning to be clothed in 
pale violet clouds. The motionless air seemed to be filled 
with a transparent dust ; it grew intolerably hot. Having 
reached a small stream, which crossed the road, the army 
halted. The soldiers stacked their arms, and plunged 
into the brook; the commander of the battalion sat down 
in the shade on a drum, and, expressing in his full face 
the degree of his rank, was getting ready to lunch with 
several of the officers; the captain lay down in the grass 
under the company’s cart; brave Lieutenant Rosenkranz 
and a few younger officers spread out their felt mantles, 
and, seating themselves upon them, began to carouse, as 
could be seen from the display of flagons and bottles all 
about them, and from the extraordinary animation of the 
singers who stood before them in a semicircle, and in a 
piping voice imitated a Lezgian girl singing a Caucasian 
dancing-song : 


‘Shamil started a rebellion 
In the years gone by — 
Tray-ray, ra-ta-tay — 

In the years gone by.” 


Among the number of these officers was also the youth- 
ful ensign who had caught up with us in the morning. 


He was very funny: his eyes were sparkling, his tongue 
473 


474 THE INCURSION 


was a little heavy; he wanted to kiss everybody, and 
make love to them. Poor boy! He did not know that 
he might appear ridiculous by such actions; that his 
frankness and tenderness, with which he annoyed the 
others, would lead the others, not to love him, which he 
was striving for, but to ridicule him; nor did he know 
that when he, heated up, at last threw himself down on 
the mantle and, leaning on his arm, threw back his thick 
black hair, he was uncommonly handsome. 

Two officers were seated under a cart and played “Old 
Maid” on a hamper. 

I listened with curiosity to the conversations of the 
soldiers and officers, and attentively watched the expres- 
sion of their faces, but not in one of them was I able to 
observe even a shadow of that restlessness which I myself 
was experiencing: the jokes, the laughter, and the stories 
expressed a general carelessness and indifference to the 
impending danger, as though it would be preposterous to 
suppose that some of them would never return along this 
road! 


V. 


AFTER six o’clock in the evening we entered, dusty and 
tired, through the broad, fortified gate of Fort N The 
sun was setting and cast its slanting, rose-coloured rays 
on the picturesque little batteries and on the gardens 
with their tall poplars, which surrounded the fort, on the 
ripening fields, and on the white clouds which, crowding 
together near the snow-capped mountains, as if to imitate 
them, formed a not less fantastic and beautiful chain. A 
young half-moon was visible in the horizon, resembling a 
transparent cloud. In the village which nestled near the 
gate, a Tartar on the roof of a hut was calling the faithful 
to prayer. The singers burst forth with new abandon- 
ment and energy. 

After resting and making my toilet I went to an adju- 
tant who was an acquaintance of mine, and asked him to 
report my intentions to the general. On my way from 
the suburb where I lodged, I noticed something in the 
fortress which I had least expected. A fine-looking, two- 
seated carriage, in which I saw a fashionable bonnet and 
heard a French conversation, passed by me. From the 
open window of the commandant’s house were borne the 
sounds of a “Lizanka” or “ Katenka” polka, played on a 
wretched piano, out of tune. <A few scribes were sitting, 
with cigarettes in their hands, over glasses of wine, in the 
inn by which I had just passed, and I heard one telling 
the other: “ Now, permit me, when it comes to politics, 
Marya Grigérevna is a first-class lady.” A Jew with 


475 





476 THE INCURSION 


stooping shoulders and sickly countenance, dressed in a 
threadbare coat, dragged along a squeaking, broken hand- 
organ, and over the whole suburb were borne the sounds 
of the finale from “ Lucia.” Two women, in rustling gar- 
ments, wrapped in silk kerchiefs, and with brightly col- 
oured parasols in their hands, sailed by me on the board 
sidewalk. Two maidens, one in a pink, the other in a 
blue dress, with bare heads, stood near the mound of 
a small house, and burst out in a forced, subdued laugh, 
with the evident purpose of attracting the attention of the 
officers who passed by. The officers, in new coats, white 
gloves, and shining epaulets, paraded in the streets and 
in the boulevard. 

I found my acquaintance in the lower story of the 
general’s house. I had just explained my wish to him, 
and he had told me that it was very likely it would be 
fulfilled, — when the fine carriage, which I had noticed at 
the entrance, rumbled by the window where we were sit- 
ting. A tall, stately gentleman in the uniform of the 
infantry, with the epaulets of a major, came out of the 
carriage, and went up to the general. 

“Oh, pardon me, if you please,” said the adjutant to 
me, rising from his seat, “I must announce him to the 
general.” 

“ Who is it that has arrived?” I asked him. 

“The countess,” he answered, and buttoning up his 
uniform, rushed up-stairs. 

A few minutes later, a rather small, but very handsome 
man, with a white cross in his buttonhole, came out of 
the entrance. He was followed by the major, the adju- 
tant, and two other officers. In the gait, the voice, and 
all the movements of the general could be seen a man 
who was well aware of his high importance. 

“ Bonsoir, Madame la Comtesse,’ he said, putting his 
hand through the carriage window. 

A little hand in a dogskin glove pressed his hand, and 


THE INCURSION ATT 


a pretty, smiling face in a yellow bonnet appeared in the 
window. 

Of the whole conversation, which lasted several min- 
utes, I heard only, as I passed, the general say, smiling: 

“ Vous savez, que fat fait veuw de combattre les infideles, 
prenez done garde de le devenir.” 

Laughter was heard in the carriage. 

« Adieu done, cher général !” 

« Non, & revoir,” said the general, walking up the steps, 
“ wvoubliez pas, que je m’invite pour la soirée de demain.” 

The carriage rattled away. 

“Here is a man,” I thought, returning home, “ who 
has everything a Russian strives for: rank, wealth, dis- 
tinction, — and this man, before the battle, of which only 
God knows the outcome, is jesting with a pretty woman, 
and promising her to take tea with her on the morrow, 
as though he had just met her at a ball!” 

At this adjutant’s I met a man who surprised me even 
more: it was a young lieutenant of K Regiment, who 
was distinguished for his almost feminine gentleness and 
timidity, and who had come to the adjutant to pour 
out his anger and annoyance upon the people who, he 
thought, had intrigued against him so as to keep him 
from an appointment in the impending action. He said 
it was contemptible to act thus, that it was not at all 
friendly to act so, that he would remember him, and 
so forth. However much I watched the expression of 
his face, however much I listened to the sound of his 
voice, I could not help convincing myself that he was 
not dissembling in the least, but was really provoked and 
aggrieved because he was not allowed to go to shoot Cir- 
cassians and expose himself to their fire; he was as 
aggrieved as is a child who is unjustly whipped. I was 
absolutely unable to understand the thing. 





Vil 


THE army was to move at ten o’clock in the evening. 
At half-past eight I mounted my horse, and rode to the 
general’s house; but surmising that he and his adjutant 
were busy, I stopped in the street, tied my horse to a 
fence, and sat down on a mound, expecting to overtake 
the general as soon as he should ride out. 

The glare and heat of the sun had given way to the 
coolness of the night and to the dim light of the young 
moon, which was beginning to set, forming about itself 
a pale, semicircular halo against the deep azure of the 
starry heavens; lights appeared in the windows of houses 
and in the chinks of the shutters in the earth-huts. The 
stately poplars of the gardens, which were visible against 
the horizon beyond the whitewashed, moonlit earth-huts 
with their reed-thatched roofs, seemed taller and blacker. 

The long shadows of the houses, the trees, and the 
fences fell picturesquely on the illuminated, dusty road. 
The frogs dinned? incessantly in the river; in the streets 
were heard, now hasty steps and conversation, now the 
galloping of a horse; from the suburb now and then 
the sound of a hand-organ reached me; now it was “ The 
winds are blowing,” now some “ Aurora-Walzer.” 

I will not tell what I was pondering over; in the first 
place, I should be ashamed to confess the gloomy thoughts 
that oppressed my soul with obtrusive alternation, while 
all about me I saw nothing but mirth and joy; and, in 


1The sound of the frogs in the Caucasus has nothing in common 
with the croaking of Russian frogs. ~ Author’s Note. 
478 


THE INCURSION 479 


the second place, because that does not fit into my story. 
I was so merged in meditation that I did not even notice 
the bell striking eleven, and the general passing by me 
with all his suite. 

The rear-guard was still in the gate of the fortress. 
I made my way with difficulty over the bridge, that 
was crowded with cannon, caissons, company wagons, 
and officers noisily giving their orders. After leaving the 
gate, I galloped beyond the army that silently moved in 
the darkness, nearly a verst in extent, and overtook the 
general. As I passed by the artillery, with their ordnance 
in single file, and the officers riding between the ordnance, 
my ear was struck, amidst a silent and solemn harmony, 
by the offensive dissonance of a German voice, calling, 
«Satan, hand me the linstock!” and the voice of a 
soldier, hurriedly crying, “Shevchénko, the lieutenant is 
asking for some fire!” 

The greater part of the sky was covered with long, 
dark gray thunder-clouds ; only here and there stars shone 
dimly between them. The moon was hidden behind the 
near horizon of the black mountains, which were to be 
seen on the right, and cast a weak, quivering half-light 
against their summits, which sharply contrasted with the 
impenetrable darkness that covered their bases. The 
air was warm and so calm that not a blade of grass, not 
a cloud seemed to be in motion. It was so dark that 
it was impossible to tell objects at very close range; 
along the road I imagined now rocks, now animals, now 
some strange people, and I discovered them to be bushes 
when I heard their rustling, or felt the freshness of the 
dew with which they were covered. Before me I saw 
a dense, undulating, black wall, behind which followed a 
few moving spots ; those were the vanguard of the cavalry, 
and the general with his suite. About us moved just 
such a gloomy mass, but it was lower than the first; it 
was the infantry. 


480 THE INCURSION 


In the whole detachment reigned such quiet that all 
the harmonious sounds of the night, full of mysterious 
charm, were clearly audible; the distant, moaning howl 
of the jackals, resembling now a wail of despair, now a 
burst of laughter; the sonorous, monotonous songs of the 
crickets, the frogs, and the quails; a roar which was ever 
coming nearer, and the cause of which I was unable to 
explain to myself; and all those nocturnal, barely audible 
movements of Nature, which it is impossible to compre- 
hend, or to define, ran together into one full, beautiful 
sound which we call the stillness of the night. This still- 
ness was broken, or, more correctly, coincided with the dull 
tramp of the hoofs, and the rustling of the tall grass, 
which were produced by the slowly moving detachment. 

Now and then was heard the clang of a heavy ordnance, 
the sound of clashing bayonets, stifled conversation, and 
the snorting of a horse. 

Nature breathed pacifyingly in beauty and strength. 

Is this beautiful world, with its immeasurable starry 
heaven, too small for people to live together in peace? 
Can the feeling of malice, vengeance, or the passion for 
annihilating his kind survive in the soul of man, amidst 
this entrancing Nature? Everything evil in the heart 
of man, it seems, ought to vanish in his contact with 
Nature,— that immediate expression of beauty and 
goodness. 


VA. 


WE had been riding more than two hours. I was 
getting chilled and drowsy. In the darkness I dimly 
discerned the same indistinct objects: at a certain 
distance a black wall, and just such moving spots; right 
close to me the crupper of a white horse which switched 
its tail and widely spread its hind legs: a back in a white 
mantle, on which could be seen a rifle in a black cover, 
and the white handle of a pistol in a hand-made case; the 
fire of a cigarette, lighting up a red moustache; a beaver 
collar, and a hand in a chamois-leather glove. I bent 
down to the neck of the horse, closed my eyes, and forgot 
myself for a few minutes; then, I was suddenly struck by 
the familiar tramping and rustling: I looked round, — 
and it seemed to me that I stood in one spot, and that 
the black wall which was in front was moving up to me, 
or that the wall had stopped, and I was just about to 
ride into it. In one such moment I was still more struck 
by an approaching uninterrupted din, the cause of which 
I could not make out: it was the roar of water. We 
were entering a deep ravine, and approaching a mountain 
torrent which was then at its highest. The roar grew 
louder; the damp grass became thicker and taller; bushes 
were more frequent; and the horizon grew by degrees 
narrower. Now and then bright fires flashed in various 
places in the gloomy background of the mountains, and 
immediately disappeared again. 

“Please tell me what kind of fires these are!” I said 


in a whisper to a Tartar who was riding at my side. 
481 


482 THE INCURSION 


“Don’t you know?” he answered. 

“No: 

“Tt is mountain-grass tied to a post and put on fire.” 

“ What is that for?” 

“That everybody should know that the Russians have 
come. Now,” he added, laughing, “there will be a terrible 
hubbub in the villages, everybody will be taking all his 
possessions to some deep valley.” 

“ Do they already know in the mountains that the army 
is coming?” I asked him. 

“Oh, how can they help knowing? They always 
know: that is the way with our people!” 

“So Shamil is now getting ready for the expedition ? 
I asked. 

“No,” he answered, shaking his head, in denial. “ Shamil 
will not be in the expedition: he will send a superior 
officer, and himself will be up there, looking through a 
glass.” 

“ Does he live far from here ?” 

“No. On the left, about ten versts from here.” 

“How do you know?” I asked. “Have you been 
there?” 

“Yes. We have all been in the mountains.” 

« And have you seen Shamil ?” 

“No, we cannot see Shamil. One hundred, three hun- 
dred, a thousand guards are all about him. Shamil is 
in the middle!” he said, with an expression of servile 
admiration. 

Looking up, one could see that it was dawning in the 
east in the clear heaven, and the Pleiades were low on 
the horizon; but in the ravine, through which we passed, 
it was damp and gloomy. 

Suddenly, a little ahead of us, several fires were lighted 
in the darkness; at the same moment bullets whizzed by 
with a whining sound, and amidst the surrounding silence 
resounded reports of guns, and a loud, penetrating cry. 


” 


THE INCURSION 483 


Those were the advance pickets of the enemy. The 
Tartars who composed them shouted, discharged their 
guns at random, and ran away. 

Everything was silent again. The general called up 
the interpreter. A Tartar in a white mantle rode up and 
spoke to him for quite awhile, in a whisper, and gesticu- 
lating. 

“ Colonel Khasénov! Order the cordon to be scattered,” 
said the general, in a quiet, drawling, but distinct voice. 

The detachment walked up to the river, the black 
mountains of the cleft were behind us; day began to 
dawn. The vault of heaven, on which pale, indistinct 
stars were barely visible, seemed higher; the morning 
star began to shine brightly in the east; a fresh, chill 
breeze blew from the west, and a light, steam-like mist 
rose over the roaring river. 


VIII. 


THE guide pointed out a ford, and the van of the 
cavalry, and immediately afterward the general, with his 
suite, began to cross over. The water was up to the 
horses’ breasts and rushed down with extraordinary force 
between white boulders, which in places could be seen 
at the surface of the water, and formed foaming, hissing 
streams about the legs of the horses. The horses were 
surprised at the roar of the water, raised their heads, and 
pricked their ears, but walked evenly and cautiously 
against the current over the broken bottom. The riders 
raised their feet and weapons. The foot-soldiers, literally 
in their shirts, raising above the water their guns, over 
which were slung bundles containing their wearing 
apparel, and holding each other’s hands, twenty at a time, 
with evident effort, as was seen in their strained faces, 
tried to stem the current. The artillery riders drove their 
horses in a trot into the water, with a shout. The cannon 
and the green caissons, across which the water washed 
now and then, rang out against the stony bottom; but 
the good Cossack horses tugged together at their traces, 
made the water foam, and with wet tails and manes 
climbed the opposite bank. 

The moment the crossing was accomplished, the general 
suddenly looked pensive and serious, wheeled his horse 
about, and started in a trot with the infantry over the 
broad, wood-girt clearing which opened up before us. A 
cordon of Cossack horsemen was scattered along the edge 


of the forest. 
484 


THE INCURSION 485 


In the woods was seen a footman in mantle and fur 
cap; then a second, a third. Some one of the officers 
called out, “These are Tartars!” Then a puff of smoke 
appeared from behind a tree—a shot, another. Our 
frequent fusilade drowned that of the enemy. Only 
now and then a bullet flying by with a slow sound, 
resembling that made by a bee in its flight, proved that 
not all the shots were ours. Now the infantry with 
hurried step and the ordnance at a trot passed into the 
cordon; there were heard the booming discharges of the 
cannon, the metallic sound of case-shot, the hissing of 
rockets, the cracking of guns. The cavalry, infantry, and 
artillery were seen on all sides in the extensive clearing. 
The smoke of the cannon, rockets, and muskets inter- 
mingled with the dew-covered verdure and the mist. 
Colonel Khasdnov galloped up to the general, and abruptly 
checked his horse at full speed. 

“Your Excellency!” he exclaimed, raising his hand to 
his cap, “ order the cavalry to advance! The pennons! have 
appeared,” and he pointed with his whip to the Tartar 
horsemen, in front of whom rode two men on white 
horses, with red and blue rags on sticks. 

“Very well, Ivan Mikhdaylovich !” said the general. 

The colonel turned his horse on the spot, unsheathed 
his sabre, and shouted, “ Hurrah!” 

“Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!” it rang out in the ranks, 
and the cavalry flew after them. 

Everybody watched with curiosity ; there was a pennon, 
another, a third, a fourth — 

The enemy did not wait for the attack, but concealed 
himself in the forest, and opened a musketry fire from 
there. The bullets flew more frequently. 

“Quel charmant coup dil!” said the general, lightly 

1 The pennons have, among the mountaineers, almost the same value 


as flags, except that every braye may make and display his own 
pennon. — Author’s Note. 


486 THE INCURSION 


rising, in English fashion, on his black, slender-legged 
horse. 

“Charmant !” answered the major, pronouncing his r 
gutturally, and, striking his horse with his whip, rode up 
to the general. “ C’est un vrai plarsir, que la guerre dans 
un aussi beau pays,” he said. 

“Et surtout en bonne compagnie,” added the general, 
with a pleasant smile. 

The major bowed. 

Just then a cannon-ball from the enemy flew by with 
a rapid, disagreeable hiss, and struck against something. 
Behind me was heard the groan of awounded man. This 
groan impressed me so strangely that the warlike picture 
lost all its charm for me ina flash. No one but me seemed 
to have noticed it. The major laughed, with greater en- 
thusiasm, it seemed ; another officer calmly repeated the 
unfinished words of his sentence; the general looked in 
the opposite direction, and with the calmest smile said 
something in French. 

“Do you order the return of their fire ?” asked the com- 
mander of the artillery, galloping up. 

«Yes, scare them a little,” carelessly said the general, 
lighting his cigar. 

The battery took its position, and the cannonade began. 
The earth groaned from the discharges of the guns; fires 
kept on flashing, and the smoke, through which one could 
hardly distinguish the attendants moving near their guns, 
dimmed the eyes. 

The village was taken. Colonel Khasdnov again rode up 
to the general, and, having received his orders, galloped 
away into the village. The war-cry was raised once more, 
and the cavalry disappeared in the cloud of dust which it 
raised. 

The spectacle was truly majestic. There was, however, 
one thing which entirely spoiled the impression for me, as 
a man who did not take any part in the action, and who 


THE INCURSION 487 


was unused to it: to me this motion, and animation, and 
the shouts seemed superfluous. Involuntarily the com- 
parison occurred to me of a man who strikes the air with 
an axe from the shoulder. 


IX. 


THE village was occupied by our army, and not a single 
soul of the enemy was left in it, when the general rode up 
to it with his suite, with which I had mingled. 

The long, neat huts, with their flat earth roofs and beau- 
tiful chimneys, were situated on uneven, rocky mounds, 
between which flowed a small brook. On one side were 
seen green gardens illuminated by the bright sunlight, 
with enormous pear-trees and plum-trees; on the other 
towered strange shadows, —tall, perpendicular stones of 
the cemetery, and long, wooden poles, with balls and many- 
coloured flags attached to their ends. These were the 
graves of the dzhigits. 

The army stood drawn up beyond the gate. 

A minute later the dragoons, the Cossacks, and the 
infantry with evident joy scattered over the crooked lanes, 
and the empty village suddenly became enlivened. In one 
place a thatch was battered down, an axe struck against 
the solid wood, and a board door was broken through; in 
another, a hayrick, a fence, a hut, were set on fire, and the 
dense smoke rose like a column in the clear atmosphere. 
Here a Cossack dragged along a bag of flour and a carpet ; 
a soldier with a beaming face brought out of a hut a tin 
basin and some rag; another, stretching out his hands, was 
trying to catch a couple of hens that with loud cackling 
were fluttering against the fence; a third found somewhere 
a huge earthern pot with milk which he smashed on the 
ground with a loud laugh, after he had drunk his fill 


from it. 
488 


THE INCURSION 489 


The battalion with which I had come from Fort N 
was alsoin the village. The captain was sitting on the roof 
of a hut, and puffing streams of Sambrotalik tobacco from 
his short pipe, with such an indifferent expression on his 
face that, when I saw him, I forgot that we were in a hos- 
tile village, and I imagined I was quite at home in it. 

“Oh, you are here, too?” he said, noticing me. 

The tall figure of Lieutenant Rosenkranz flashed, now 
here, now there, in the village; he was continually giving 
orders, and had the appearance of a man extremely worried 
about something. I saw him come out of a hut with a 
triumphant countenance; he was followed by two soldiers 
who were leading an old Tartar in fetters. The old man, 
whose whole attire consisted of a motley half-coat all in 
rags, and patched-up drawers, was so feeble that his bony 
hands, which were tightly fastened on his stooping back, 
barely seemed to be attached to his shoulders, and his 
crooked, bare feet moved with difficulty. His face and 
even a part of his shaven head were furrowed by deep 
wrinkles; his distorted, toothless mouth, surrounded by a 
closely cropped gray moustache and beard, moved inces- 
santly as though chewing something; but in his red eyes, 
which were bereft of their lashes, still sparkled fire, and 
was clearly expressed an old man’s indifference to life. 

Rosenkranz asked him through an interpreter why he 
had not gone with the rest. 

“Where should I go?” he said, calmly looking about 
him. 

“ Where the others have gone,” remarked somebody. 

“The dzhigits have gone to fight the Russians, but I am 
an old man.” 

“ Are you not afraid of the Russians ?” 

“What will the Russians do to me? I am an old 
man,” he said again, carelessly surveying the circle which 
had formed itself around him. 

On my way back, I saw the same old man, without a 





490 THE INCURSION 


cap, with his hands tied, shaking behind the saddle of a 
Cossack of the line, and looking about him with the same 
apathetic expression. He was needed for the exchange of 
prisoners. 

I climbed on the roof, and took a seat near the captain. 

“It seems there were but few of the enemy,” I said to 
him, wishing to learn his opinion of the past action. 

« Enemy ?” he repeated, with amazement. “ Why, there 
were none. Do you call these the enemy? You wait 
for the evening when we retreat ; you will see then what 
company we shall have! There will be enough of them!” 
he added, pointing with his pipe to the young forest 
which we had crossed in the morning. 

«What is this?” I asked, anxiously, interrupting the 
captain, and pointing at a number of Don Cossacks col- 
lected a short distance from us. 

We heard in their midst something resembling the cry 
of a baby, and the words: 

“Oh, don’t cut — stop—they will see us. Have you 
a knife, Evstignéich? Give me your knife.” 

“ They are dividing up something, the scamps,” calmly 
remarked the captain. 

Just then the handsome ensign suddenly came running 
from around the corner, with a flushed and frightened 
face, and, waving his hands, flew at the Cossacks. 

“Don’t touch it, don’t strike it!” he cried, in a child- 
like voice. 

When the Cossacks saw the officer, they stepped aside 
and let a white little goat escape out of their hands. The 
young ensign was very much embarrassed, mumbled 
something, and stopped in front of us with a confused 
countenance. Noticing the captain and me on the roof, 
he blushed still more and ran trippingly up to us. 

“JT thought they were about to kill a baby,” he said, 
smiling timidly. 


X. 


THE general had gone ahead with the cavalry. The bat- 
talion with which I had come from Fort N remained 
in the rear-guard. The companies of Captain Khldépov 
and Lieutenant Rosenkranz were retreating together. 

The captain’s prediction was completely verified: the 
moment we entered the narrow young forest which he 
had mentioned, mountaineers on horse and on foot con- 
tinually flashed by us on both sides, and at so close a 
range that I clearly saw some of them, bending down, and, 
with musket in hand, running from one tree to another. 

The captain took off his cap, and piously made the 
sign of the cross; some of the older soldiers did likewise. 
In the forest were heard the war-cry and the words: 
“Tay, Giaour! Jay Urus!” Dry, short musket reports 
followed one after another, and bullets whizzed on both 
sides. Ours answered silently with a running fire; in 
our ranks, occasionally, were heard remarks like these: 
“Where does he! shoot from? It is easy for him behind 
the trees! We ought to bring out the cannon,” and 
so forth. 

The ordnance was drawn out, and, after a few dis- 
charges of case-shot, the enemy seemed to weaken, but a 
moment later the fire, the shouts, and the war-cry in- 
creased with every step which our army was taking. 

We had retreated less than six hundred yards from the 
village, when the cannon-balls of the enemy began to 





1‘ He’ is acollective name by which the soldiers in.the Caucasus 
understand the enemy in general. — Author’s Note. 
491 


492 THE INCURSION 


whistle above us. I saw a soldier killed by a ball — but 
why tell the details of this terrible picture, when I myself 
would give much to forget it! 

Lieutenant Rosenkranz himself fired off his musket, 
without stopping a minute to rest, in a hoarse voice gave 
orders to the soldiers, and at full speed galloped from one 
end of the cordon to the other. He was somewhat pale, 
and that was quite becoming to his martial countenance. 

The handsome ensign was in ecstasy; his beautiful 
black eyes sparkled with daring ; his mouth smiled lightly ; 
he continually rode up to the captain and asked his per- 
mission to charge the enemy. 

“We will drive them back,” he said, persuasively, 
“really, we will.” 

“Not now,” replied the captain, gently, “we must re- 
treat !” 

The captain’s company occupied the edge of the forest 
and returned the fire of the enemy while lying down. 
The captain, in his threadbare coat and dishevelled cap, 
slackened the reins of his white pony, and, bending his 
feet in his short stirrups, stood silently in one spot. (The 
soldiers knew their business so well that there was no 
need of giving them orders.) Only now and then he 
raised his voice and called out to those who lifted their 
heads. The captain’s figure was not very martial, but 
there was so much truthfulness and simplicity in his 
countenance that I was exceedingly impressed by it. 
“Here is a truly brave man,” I said, involuntarily, to 
myself. 

He was just as I always saw him: the same calm 
movements, the same even voice, the same expression of 
guilelessness on his homely but simple face ; by his more 
than usually bright glance one could tell the attention of 
aman quietly occupied with his business. It is easy to 
say “just asalways;” but how many different shades have 
I noticed in others! One wants to appear calmer, another 


THE INCURSION 493 


sterner, another gayer, than usual; but one could see by 
the captain’s face that he did not even understand why 
one should dissemble. 

The Frenchman who said at Waterloo, “Za garde 
meurt, mais ne se rend pas,” and other heroes, especially 
French heroes, who have made noteworthy utterances, 
were brave, and really have made noteworthy utterances ; 
but between their bravery and that of the captain is this 
difference, that if, upon any occasion, a great word had 
actually stirred in the soul of my hero, I am convinced he 
would never have uttered it; first, because, having uttered 
this great word, he would have been afraid that it would 
spoil his great deed ; and secondly, because when a man 
feels in himself the power to do a great deed, no saying of 
any kind is needed. This, in my opinion, is a peculiar 
and sublime feature of Russian bravery. How, then, can 
a Russian help being pained when he hears our young 
soldiers use trite French phrases, with their pretence of 
imitating an antiquated French chivalry ? 

Suddenly a scattered and subdued hurrah was heard in 
the direction where the handsome ensign stood with a de- 
tachment. Upon looking round, I saw some thirty soldiers, 
with muskets in their hands and sacks on their shoulders, 
with difficulty run over a newly ploughed field. They 
stumbled, but moved ahead and shouted. In front of 
them, with drawn sabre, galloped the young ensign. 

They were all lost in the forest — 

After a few minutes of shouting and crackling of 
muskets, the frightened horse ran out of the forest, and in 
the clearing appeared some soldiers carrying the dead and 
the wounded ; among the latter was also the young ensign. 
Two soldiers supported him under his arms. He was pale 
as a sheet, and his handsome head, on which was visible 
only a shadow of that martial transport that had animated 
him but a minute ago, seemed peculiarly sunken between 
his shoulders, and fell down on his breast. On the white 


494 THE INCURSION 


shirt, beneath his unbuttoned coat, could be seen a small 
blood-stain. 

“Qh, what a pity!” I said, involuntarily turning away 
from that sad spectacle. 

“Of course, a pity,” said an old soldier who, with 
gloomy face, stood near me, leaning on his gun. “He is 
afraid of nothing. How can one do so?” he added looking 
fixedly at the wounded man. “ He is still foolish, so he is 
paying the penalty.” 

“ And are you afraid?” I asked. 

“Well, no!” 


XI. 


Four soldiers were carrying the ensign on a litter. 
Behind it a soldier from the suburb led a lean, foundered 
horse laden with two green boxes that contained the sur- 
geon’s instruments. They were waiting for the physician. 
The officers rode up to the litter and tried to encourage 
the wounded man. 

“Well, brother Aldnin, it will be some time before you 
dance again with the castagnettes,” said Lieutenant Ro- 
senkranz, who rode up, smiling. 

He evidently thought that these words would sustain 
the courage of the handsome ensign; but, so far as one 
could judge by the cold and sad expression of the latter’s 
countenance, they did not produce the desired effect. 

The captain rode up, too. He looked steadily at the 
wounded lad, and on his ever indifferent and cold face 
was expressed genuine pity. 

“Well, my dear Anatdéli Ivdnych,” he said, in a voice 
full of tender sympathy, such as I had not expected from 
him, “it was evidently God’s will.” 

The wounded lad looked up; his pale face was lighted 
by a sad smile. 

“Yes, I did not obey you.” 

“Say rather, it was God’s will,” repeated the captain. 

The physician, who had in the meantime arrived, took 
from the assistant some bandages, a probe, and another 
implement, and, rolling up his sleeves, walked up to the 
wounded man with an encouraging smile. 


“Well, I see they have made a little hole in your 
496 


496 THE INCURSION 


healthy body,” he said, in a jesting and careless tone; 
“show it to me!” 

The ensign obeyed, but in the expression with which 
he glanced at the mirthful doctor were surprise and re- 
proach, which the latter did not see. He began to probe 
the wound, and to examine it from all sides; but the 
wounded man lost his patience and with a heavy groan 
pushed away his hand. 

“ Leave me alone,” he said, in a barely audible voice, “I 
shall die anyway.” 

With these words he fell on his back, and five minutes 
later, when I went up to the group that had formed itself 
near him, and asked a soldier, “ How is the ensign?” he 
answered, “ He is going!” 


XII. 


It was late when the detachment, drawn out in a 
broad column, approached the fortress with songs. The 
sun had disappeared behind the snow-covered mountain 
range, and was casting its last, rosy rays on a long, thin 
cloud which was hovering in the clear, transparent hori- 
zon. The snow-capped mountains were beginning to dis- 
appear in a lilac mist; only their upper contour was 
delineated with extraordinary clearness against the blood- 
red light of the sunset. The transparent moon, which had 
long been up, was growing white against the dark azure 
sky. The verdure of the grass and the trees looked black, 
and was covered with dew. The dark masses of the 
troops moved, with an even noise, across a luxuriant 
field; tambourines, drums, and merry songs were heard 
from all sides. The singer of Company Six sang out 
with all his might, and the sounds of the pure chest-notes 
of his tenor, full of sentiment and power, were borne afar 
through the transparent evening air. 


THE END. 


497 


UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
Los Angeles 
This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 





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